The Heart of the Phoenix
by daemonfamiliar
Summary: We all know the prophecy Harry has to fulfill: either he kills Voldemort or Voldermort kills him, right? Well, there is one little line that Dumbledore 'accidentally' edited out of the memory in the Pensieve, and one line can make all the difference. HPDM
1. Dumbledore and Fawkes

Summary: We all know the prophecy Harry has to fulfill. Either he kills Voldemort or Voldermort kills him? Simple enough, right? Well, there is one little line that Dumbledore 'accidentally' edited out of the memory in the Pensieve. Now that one line will either change Harry's life... end it. HP/DM slash.

Disclaimer: No, unfortunately I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I wish I did, though...sniff TT

Chapter One: Fawkes and Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat behind his desk pretending to read the stack of parchment in his hands and ignoring the scarlet bird perched on the chair across from his.

"_Albus_, _please_," the phoenix said, exasperation clear in the sweet tenor voice echoing gently in the corners of Dumbledore's mind. "_I know you know I'm right. You_ have _to tell Harry the rest of the prophecy—and soon!"_ With a sigh, Dumbledore put the parchment down on the desk. After carefully making sure the edges of the paper lined up with the pen—more a delaying tactic then anything else—he finally looked up, though still not meeting the bird's dark eyes. In a gesture of weariness, he covered his face in his hands.

"Do you remember what happened when I told Harry the _first_ part of the prophecy?" He didn't wait for an answer. "He _trashed_ my office! Completely destroyed it, Fawkes! What is he going to do when he finds out that not only have I hidden _more_ things from him—which I swore not to do, by the way—the prophecy gets worse! How do you tell a seventeen-year-old boy with a violent temper something like that?"

_"I don't think it gets... worse, exactly. There's just more to it. Yes, he's going to be mad, but you might have avoided most of his anger if you had just told him in the first place. And besides, you're being a little hard on Harry, don't you think? That one time in your office is the only time I've ever seen him actually violent. He has a temper, yes, but it's mellowed down quite a bit since his fifth year. Harry's growing up. He _deserves_ to know, Albus."_

"I know, I know. Why do I keep putting this off? I know it will only get worse the longer I avoid it," he asked himself, but the phoenix answered anyway.

_"You know it will upset him. You love him," _Fawkes stated simply. Dumbledore gave him a bitter half-smile.

"Yes, and we all know what happened last time I was foolish enough to love someone," he said, looking pointedly at the bird. Fawkes just stared back with those dark, dark eyes. Then, in a ruffle of wings, he took flight off the back of the chair and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore turned his head and buried his face in the warm red feathers, cursing himself as he felt the heat of tears in his eyes. He hadn't cried in so long; he certainly wasn't going to do it now.

_"Oh, Albus,"_ the phoenix sighed through his mind.

"Fawkes. Merlin, Fawkes, why does everything have to be so complicated?"

_"Love is always complicated. Especially for those with power, like yourself—and like Harry. Harry's a strong boy. Tell him."_

"I will," Dumbledore sighed, giving in. He caught the look the phoenix threw him. "Really, I will." He pulled his pen and a blank piece of parchment towards him. "Look, I am writing the summons now." He wrote a quick note on the piece of parchment, signed it with a flourish, and folded it up. Fawkes looked at him again. "You certainly cannot expect me to send it now; it is..." he paused to glance at the clock, "two o'clock in the morning. I will send it to him first thing tomorrow. I promise." He heard the phoenix sigh again.

_"Very well." _ He nuzzled Albus' cheek with his beak, smooth and cool as silk. _"Try to get some sleep, Albus, please. You need your strength."_

"Are you trying to tell me that I am getting old?" Dumbledore asked Fawkes jokingly.

"_Yes, I am," _the bird replied seriously. _"And, unlike me, if you burn yourself out, you won't get another chance."_

"I know Fawkes," Dumbledore replied tiredly, the joking moment gone. "Believe me, I know. Do you want to come with me, or stay here?" He heard a low chuckle in his head.

_"You're giving me the choice of staying in your cold, dark office alone, or sleeping with you? What kind of choice is that?" _Dumbledore had to smile.

"Come then, old friend. Let us try and get a few hours of sleep before we face the music tomorrow."


	2. Facing the Music

Chapter Two: Facing the Music

Harry Potter sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall eating breakfast with his friends. He glanced up at the staff table and waved good morning to his favorite teachers; namely Hagrid the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Tonks, the rebellious Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher, and Dumbledore, the Headmaster. All of them waved cheerfully back, except for Dumbledore, who seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

"Well, that's odd," he commented to himself.

"What is, Harry?" Hermione Granger asked from the other side of Ron Weasely.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, snapping back to the scene around him. Ron was shoveling food into his mouth at an amazing rate and was ignoring the conversation his two best friends were having over his head. Harry looked from Ron to his own empty plate, grimaced, and grabbed a piece of dry toast from a platter. He had been feeling off for the last couple of days. Though it might just be Ron's table manners. "Dumbledore's just acting a bit funny this morning."

"Oh, really?" Hermione asked, startled that she, of all people, hadn't picked up on something like that. Hermione refused to admit it, but she wasn't the quickest person to catch subtle emotional signs. Her specialty was picking facts out of books and memorizing them. It was usually better to leave the emotional ESP to Harry. Ron, lacking either skill, continued to pay them no mind.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny Weasely said, flipping her mane of red hair over her shoulder as she slid onto the bench across from him. "I was supposed to give you this," she announced, tossing him a piece of parchment. He caught it deftly and unfolded it. It was from Dumbledore, asking Harry to meet him in his office at his earliest convenience. Was this why Dumbledore was acting oddly a moment ago? Well, Harry had double Potions next with the Slytherins so going to Dumbledore's office instead would definitely be 'convenient'.   
"Hey, guys, I've got to go to Dumbledore's office after breakfast. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll miss all of Potions."

This got Ron's attention. "No way! You lucky dog," Ron groaned. "What am I going to do without you for two frickin' hours with Snape and Malfoy? You've _got_ to be kidding me." It looked as though he could easily rant about the unfairness of it all for a good long while, but he caught Hermione malevolent glare and fell silent.

"Honestly, you two! Harry, it's only the third day of classes! You'll miss something important!"

"I know Hermione, and it pains me, it really does," Harry began, trying to pacify her, "but the summons does say I need to go as soon as possible." Not true, but what Hermione didn't know wouldn't hurt his Potions grade. "Do you think I could maybe copy your notes after class?" he asked pleadingly. She opened her mouth to protest and he gave her puppy dog eyes. Against her will, she felt the corners of her mouth turning upwards.

"Oh alright. Since you _do _have a valid excuse for missing class. Just this once though."

"You're the best, Hermione!" Harry said with a beaming smile. He leaned around Ron to kiss her lightly on the cheek, earning a slight blush from Hermione and a death glare from Ron. He wasn't worried about Hermione thinking the wrong thing because, socially challenged or no, Hermione had figured out pretty quickly that he wasn't exactly straight. Ginny knew too—it must be a girl thing. He had been worried about anyone finding out, and had tried his best not to give himself away, but when they had approached him about it he'd told them the truth. He was glad they knew now; they were the only ones (as far as he knew) that were aware of it. It meant he could talk to them about just about anything. They were also always trying to pair him up, which amused him to no end. Ron, being macho-straight and narrow-minded, didn't know about Harry's little secret. He wasn't worried about him getting the wrong impression from him kissing Hermione either because he secretly hoped that if he did think Harry was flirting with her he might make a move himself. Hermione was always trying to pair him up, it was time he returned the favor. He glanced up and noticed that Dumbledore's seat was vacant. Perfect time to make an emergency exit. Giving Ron a cocky smile, Harry waved one last time and disappeared with his bag and his books out through the big Great Hall doors, giving his friends a backward glance and noticing with amusement that Ron was watching Hermione closely.

Harry took his own sweet time meandering in the direction of Dumbledore's office. He wasn't in a big hurry, still hoping that he might not have to suffer through Potions at all today. Though expecting to be in Dumbledore's office for two hours was a little bit much, he supposed. Harry reached the grinning gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's lair and realized that he had no idea what the password was. He glanced at his summons again, with a vague hope that it might reveal something to him, and down at the bottom, in curly script, was the word "snickerdoodle." He could have sworn that wasn't there the first time he read it. He shrugged and said, "Snickerdoodle." The gargoyle leapt aside and Harry ascended the stairs. He knocked on the large oak door and, after a moment, heard Dumbledore say "Come in."

----------------------

While waiting for Harry, Dumbledore paced the room.

_"Albus,"_ Fawkes said, torn between being amused at his partner's uncharacteristic nervousness and wanting to comfort him. _"It will be all right. Honestly."_

Still, Dumbledore jumped a foot when he heard a knock on the door. He took a moment to compose himself, sitting down behind his massive desk and trying to appear calm before saying "Come in."

---------------------

Harry entered the office and made himself comfortable in the chair across from Dumbledore's.

"You said you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Harry, I did," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Harry waited for a moment, and when no information seemed forthcoming, he spoke again. "Um, what about, sir?"

He saw Dumbledore glance at Fawkes, who was perched across the room. The phoenix gave him a long look, then took flight, landing gently upon Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Do you remember the prophecy I told you about at the end of your fifth year? The one about you and Voldemort?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said, surprised. "I have to kill Voldemort... or he kills me. How could I forget that?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "There is one more line to the prophecy."

"There's... what?" Harry asked alarmed. "How?"

"I edited a line out of the memory of Sibyll Trewlaney's vision in the Pensieve before showing it to you."

"You did? But... why? What does the line say?" Dumbledore sighed and placed out a stone basin. The Pensieve. He pulled out his wand and nudged the contents inside. The revolving figure of Sibyll rose from it as before. Harry listened carefully as she announced the prophecy he had _thought_ he had memorized. As she reached the end of the prophecy Harry knew, instead of repeating it like she had done last time, she continued.

**"If he approaches the Dark Lord alone, without the bond of love chaining him to this world, the Dark Lord shall conquer him, for without it he has no advantage."**

Harry was silent a long moment. "What exactly does that mean?"  
"It means..." for the first time, Dumbledore hesitated. "In order to defeat Voldemort, you have to... fall in love."

"In love? What the f-" Harry caught himself just in time. "How do you expect me to fall in love? Why is _everything_ so complicated?"

Dumbledore smothered a smile. That sounded familiar. "I do not know, Harry. I asked myself the same thing last night. I am sorry I did not tell you before."

"Yeah, why _didn't_ you just show me the whole thing the first time?" Harry demanded, abruptly reminded of this little detail.

"You had been through an awful lot, what with the whole business at the Ministry. You had just lost Sirius," Harry winced, but Dumbledore continued on, "one of the only people you had let yourself love, and I did not feel that it would be wise to tell you that you would have to trust your heart to someone else in order to finish this. Also, I knew that even without losing your godfather, it was unlikely that you would welcome such news."  
"Why did you think I would handle that worse then knowing I might be killed by some homicidal, serial-killing maniac?"

"Simple, Harry. It is against your nature." Harry shot him a confused look. "You see, I know you too well. I know that the moment one of your friends is threatened because of you and the prophecy, you will do all you can to push everyone away and shut them off. That is just the way you are. You would give up the support and love of those you lean on the most in order to protect them. Opening your heart to someone and letting them stay with you through to the final battle would be against all of your instincts. Am I right?"

Harry had to nod. It was true, he had already considered what he would do if he thought that he was putting his friends in danger, and the conclusion he had come up with was that the only way to keep them safe was to cut himself off from them.

"I think also that the line "without the bond of love chaining him to this world" means that if you cut yourself off from everyone, you will start to lose the will to win, the will to live. You have to have someone that you care deeply about to fight for if you want to fight your best. That is an advantage you would have over Voldemort, for he is fighting only for himself because he is afraid to die."

Harry was quiet for a long moment as he mulled over this idea. "I think I understand. I still wish you had told me from the beginning. I don't even have someone I'm interested in; how am I supposed to fall in love?"

"It will happen on its own. You cannot force this sort of thing. Just remember that when it does happen, you can not automatically push him away," Dumbledore said, standing up. Harry nodded his understanding, then froze when he realized that Dumbledore had said "him."

"You really do know everything, don't you?" Harry asked with a wry smile. Dumbledore smiled back.

"Well, that was not too hard to figure out. You see," he said with a slight wink, "I know where you are coming from." That wasn't exactly true. Fawkes had been the one who had suggested that Harry might prefer males while discussing who Harry might fall in love with. Like Harry and Hermione, Dumbledore was the logical one, while Fawkes was the emotionally intelligent one. Dumbledore had decided it was a logical assumption after Fawkes had suggested it.

Harry stared at him for a moment before understanding completely. "Oh," he said, blushing slightly. "I didn't know that. I thought maybe you and McGonagall..." Dumbledore chuckled. Harry realized he couldn't remember the last time he had heard Dumbledore laugh. It had been way too long. It hit him just then how much older Dumbledore seemed than the first time he met him, on the night when his the words of his opening speech had been "Nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak." It was as if he had aged twenty years since then.

"No, _Professor_ McGonagall and I," Dumbledore said with a smile, stressing the word "professor" slightly, "are only old friends. We have been friends for longer than I can remember, and she is one of the very few who knows where my heart truly lies. Well, Harry, Potions is nearly over. I suppose, to try and make up for my untruthfulness, I will give you my permission to skip the rest of it."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you later," he said, wondering briefly if Dumbledore had meant more than it seemed when he said that McGonagall knew his heart.

"Goodbye, Harry. Take care." Dumbledore watched Harry leave, then sank back down in his comfy chair.

_"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"_ Fawkes asked.

"No," Dumbledore said, "Not nearly as bad as I thought it might be."  
_"Nothing got destroyed. That's a definite plus." _Dumbledore chuckled. _"He didn't even seem to be angry about it."_

"I am sure it just has not sunk in yet."

_"Don't be so pessimistic. I told you Harry was growing up. He's handling this unexpected news very maturely."_

"I suppose. I just can not get rid of the feeling that we haven't seen anything yet."


	3. Unwell

Chapter Three: Unwell

Harry lay on his bed, velvet curtains drawn, fighting off nausea and anxiety. Was he feeling sick to his stomach because he was anxious or was it still that slightly sick feeling he'd been battling all week? He wasn't sure. He looked at his clock and saw that it was two in the morning. He sighed, wondering if he'd ever get any sleep. Lying in bed with nothing to do but think about what Dumbledore had told him was driving him up the wall. He decided that he'd feel better if he got up and took a walk. He tossed his invisibility cloak over his head and slipped out from behind the portrait of the sleeping Fat Lady. Once out of the Gryffindor Common Room he paced the halls restlessly, unconsciously heading towards the Astronomy tower. He always went there to sit in one of the high windows and watch the stars when he needed to clear his head.

He began to notice that the farther he went the worse he felt. The flame from the torches started to blur into orange-red streaks and the features of the paintings on the walls were smeared so badly he could barely make them out. His ever-increasing nausea was joined by a splitting headache. He had just enough time to picture Filch's expression if he came across a random puddle of vomit in the hall in the middle of the night before he decided he'd better sit down. Maybe Filch would step in it. Leaning against the wall, Harry started to slide slowly down it, consciousness lost before he even hit the floor, unaware that his cloak and slid off his shoulders into a silver pile on the floor.

----------------

Draco Malfoy ran his hands through his hair, uncharacteristically not caring that it now stood up in places. He stalked the silent halls like a sleek, predatory panther, wearing only a navy blue t-shirt and black flannel pants. He usually wasn't in the habit of wandering around after curfew just for the heck of it, but he had to get away from everything. He had to get away from Crabbe and Goyle who, under their fathers' instructions, were pressuring him to pledge his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He had to get away from his father's constant owls demanding what in the hell he thought he was doing. He had to get away from his schoolwork, which was all he had to keep his mind off things, except for Quidditch of course. It was only the first week of school, but he and Granger were already tied for top grades; Merlin save him. His only comfort on that subject was how furious it must be making _her_ to be tied with him. It would do her some good—she needed some decent competition. His godfather, Snape, was the main person who kept him sane. Draco knew that the Dark Lord and Lucius were probably hounding Snape to help convert Draco, but no matter what Snape told them, he was doing no such thing. Pansy also helped some. She had always been his best girl friend—his only friend at the moment—and had also turned away from the Dark Lord's calling. She, at least, had her parents support in her decision, though Draco had to smile when he remember the look on his mother's face when he told her. Tears of joy had filled her beautiful blue eyes, and she had hugged him close, whispering, "I wish you luck, my son. Perhaps one of us can escape this chain of slavery and pain." He couldn't remember the last time anyone had hugged him. It had taken him by surprise. He knew she feared that the Dark Lord would kill him for his defiance, and he planned on living as long as possible just to prove to her it could be done. But she was proud of him and that was what mattered. Dumbledore had promised him sanctuary but Draco never truly felt safe, even in the walls of Hogwarts. How could he, when he had five loyal Death Eaters sleeping in the room next door? Thankfully, Dumbledore had foreseen the danger of putting him back in his old dorm room, and had made Draco Head Boy so that he could use the Head room. Draco was sure that was the only reason; there was no way he could actually have made Head Boy after all the trouble he'd gotten into in the past for fighting with Wonder Boy.

He knew he wasn't really alone, but sometimes—especially late at night—it sure felt that way. He decided to head to the Astronomy tower. Perhaps if the stress got any worse he could jump out one of the windows, he thought grimly. That would be letting the Dark Lord win, though, and he couldn't have that. As he turned a corner, he thought he saw the figure of a person, and he ducked back instinctively. It hadn't looked like Filch, however, so Draco peered back around the wall. It looked as though there was a person slumped against the far wall, and they weren't moving. It was a male person, and almost certainly another student. Draco approached the figure carefully, his silver-gray eyes taking in bare feet, then green-and-blue plaid pajama pants, then a white shirt, then messy black hair—it was Wonder Boy Potter, of all people. Of course. Draco sighed but he couldn't just leave him there. He put his palm against the other boy's forehead, and winced. He was burning up.

"Potter," he whispered, "Hey, Potter. Wake up." He shook the boy slightly, to no response. After a slight hesitation and a deep sigh, Draco bent to pick Potter up. He noticed a silvery gleam on the floor next to Potter's hand and, after running it through his fingers, realized that it was an invisibility cloak. That explained a lot of things. He stuffed the cloak in one of his pockets, then scooped Potter up in his arms. He was a lot heavier than he looked, though, come to think of it, Draco wasn't sure he'd seen Potter much at all this year. Perhaps he'd gained some weight over the summer. Miracles did happen. He adjusted the Potter so that the other boy's head rested on Draco's shoulder. The black-haired boy turned his face into Draco's warmth and groaned softly. Draco's heart stopped, and he froze. After letting out a rather shaky breath and refusing to think about why he had reacted so forcefully, Draco started heading down to the infirmary. He realized that it was going to look very peculiar if anyone saw him carrying the unconscious Boy Who Lived in his arms, but it would look worse if someone found him dead in the hallway and somehow figured out that Draco had been there, too. That's what he told himself, anyway. He refused to think he might actually be worried about Potter's health. He lumbered along under Potter's surprising weight, having to put him down and rest every now and then. After what seemed like ages, he lugged Wonder Boy to the door of the infirmary.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called softly, trying not to wake up any other patients. There was no answer and the infirmary was dark. Well, it _was_ nearly three o'clock in the morning. Even the indomitable Madam Pomfrey must sleep every now and then. He laid Potter down on the nearest empty bed and knocked quietly on the door to the nurse's quarters. After a moment he heard "Coming, I'm coming." and the shuffling of slippered feet. A very groggy-looking Madam Pomfrey opened the door in a purple terrycloth robe and matching slippers and nightcap.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, squinting her eyes to get a good look at him. "What's wrong?"  
"It's not me, Madam Pomfrey, it's Potter."

"Mr. Potter?" she said, looking slightly more alarmed. Oh sure, she worried when it was Wonder Boy who was sick. She hadn't seemed particularly concerned when she had thought there was something the matter with _him_. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he said launching into the story he had come up with. "I was heading down here to visit you because I wasn't feeling well, and I saw him slumped against the wall. He must've been heading here, too, but he didn't make it in time." It was mostly true, except that neither he nor Potter had been anywhere near the path to the infirmary. He led her over to the bed where Potter was sprawled. The nurse put a hand to Potter's head and Draco heard her sharp intake of breath. She opened his eyes and shined a small flashlight in each one and opened his mouth to look at his tongue.

"Take off his shirt," she said suddenly. "I've got to go get some supplies."

"What?" Draco asked, startled.

"Take off his shirt; we have to get him cooled down."  
"Can't we do that magically?"

"Not in this case," she said over her shoulder, and then she was gone. Draco stared at his archenemy for a long moment. He'd hated this boy's guts for almost seven years, and now he was expected to strip him? Draco heard Potter let out another soft moan. Flushing slightly, he took hold of the bottom of Potter's shirt and yanked it over his head. He had some trouble getting his arms out of it, but once he the shirt was lying on the floor Draco couldn't help but stare.

Potter had most definitely developed some muscle over the summer, which explained why he had been so unexpectedly heavy. Draco could see the definition of the muscles in his arms and stomach. He must have spent a lot of time outside without a shirt on; his skin was a dark bronze, contrasted by the pale white line of skin just above his pajama pants. He imagined that the rest of the skin below that line was the same creamy color—whoa Draco. He shook his head. He _so_ should not be going there. He had a hard time believing that the perfect Wonder Boy would veer from the straight and narrow—most specifically the straight—so there wasn't much sense in fantasizing. Even if that wasn't true, it was Potter, for crying out loud. But, Merlin save him, he looked _hot_. In more than one sense, he noticed with a frown. Already his skin was covered with a sheen of sweat. As if reading his mind, Madam Pomfrey reappeared.

"Here's a bucket of water and a washcloth, I need you to wipe him down. I've got to find a few more things. I haven't had a case of this in a long time."

"Is 'this' contagious?" Draco asked nervously.

Pomfrey gave him a once-over. "You're pureblood, correct?"

"Of course," he said indignantly.

"Then you'll be fine. It only affects those with Muggle blood."

"Wait, I thought Potter's parents were both magical."

"They were, but Lilly Potter was Muggleborn. All it takes is a little blood, it doesn't matter how many generations past." She was gone again. Draco looked at the washcloth in his hand for a moment, then dipped it in the water. _Why me?_ crossed his mind as he wiped the wet cloth down Potter's chest. At the first touch of the cool water, Potter moaned again. He was being a thoroughly distracting patient. He slid the washcloth down his stomach and watched the little trails of water disappear into the waistband of his pants. His fingers 'accidentally' brushed Potter's chest and he shivered. Damn, he must be more tired than he thought. He ignored the fact that he felt wide-awake and alert—and that went for _all_ of him. Madam Pomfrey finally came back, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He was hoping she'd let him go now, but no such luck.

"Here, help me sit him up, I need to get some of this medicine down him." Draco watched as she twisted off the lid of a small plastic bottle containing a thick red liquid. Draco picked up the box it came in and frowned at it.

"Isn't this Muggle medicine?"

"Yes, it is," the nurse answered as they raised Harry's head. Madam Pomfrey measured out the liquid in a little plastic cup and tipped it down Harry's throat. "He's got a Muggle virus. It would have been as insignificant as the common Muggle cold if he'd come to me when he first started experiencing symptoms. Of course Mr. Potter has never had a great concern for his own health, so he let it become a full-blown flu virus. At this point, magical methods will have no affect. It's only his Muggle blood that carries the disease, so he has to be treated like a Muggle."

"Um... Madam Pomfrey?" Draco said suddenly, motioning to the still-unconscious Potter. Instead of sweating, like he had been before, he was now shivering violently. Draco had a moment of panic, wondering if he'd cooled him down too much when he'd been wiping him with the washcloth.

"That's all right; that's normal," the nurse reassured him.

"Shouldn't we warm him up, or something?"

"_You_ should get some sleep," Madam Pomfrey told him, directing him to the bed next to Potter. "I'll keep an eye on Mr. Potter." Then her severe tone softened slightly. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter's condition might have been much more dangerous if you hadn't helped him." Draco shrugged, uncomfortable with praise, and crawled into bed, willing himself to fall asleep.


	4. Matchmaker Pansy

Chapter Four: Matchmaker Pansy

The first coherent thought that crossed Harry's mind when he woke up was _I feel miserable_. He opened his eyes slowly, suppressing the urge to groan at the intense pain in his head. He realized there was someone sitting in the chair next to his bed. He turned his head slightly to the side and his gaze locked onto a pair of bright silver eyes. _What pretty eyes_ crossed his still-groggy brain, then he frowned, puzzled. He was beginning to pull things together and he realized he didn't know these eyes. Hermione had brown eyes. Ron, Ginny, and Dumbledore all had eyes of varying shades of blue. Who did he know that had gray eyes? His brain cleared a little more and he was able to take in the person that was sitting next to him.

"_Malfoy?_" he mumbled, sounding as shocked as a person can when stuttering sleepily.

Malfoy smiled a half-smile. "The one and the only. Here, you need to take these," he said, holding out a small, white plastic cap with two white pills on it and a glass of water. Harry looked at him suspiciously and Malfoy's smile disappeared. "Look, Potter, Pomfrey told me to give these to you when you woke up. It's not poison; it's some Muggle medicine called ibuprofen or something."

"Ibuprofen?" Harry asked. He, of course, knew what ibuprofen was, and he desperately wanted his head to stop pounding. And besides, Malfoy was a Pureblood, how would he know what ibuprofen was unless he was telling the truth? Harry popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of water. It wasn't until the water touched his dry tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. He drained the rest of the cup in one gulp then cast a shy look at Malfoy, who gave him another half-smile and filled his glass again. This cup he drank more slowly, savoring the cool liquid against his mouth and throat. After he was finished he gave Malfoy, who was studiously avoiding his eyes, a long, calculating look. "Thank you," he said finally.

"You're welcome. I'll go tell Pomfrey that you're awake," he said, and then he was gone, leaving Harry deep in thought. The Malfoy he'd seen just then had been very different from the arrogant, selfish git he had known to be Malfoy. Had he possibly changed that much? Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess. My head is killing me, but I just took some ibuprofen that Malfoy gave me, so it should be better in a couple of minutes." He gave her a quick look to see if she seemed surprised that Malfoy had given him medicine, but she just nodded.

"Good. You should be all better by tomorrow. Next time, Mr. Potter," she said, giving him a severe look, "you should come to me if you begin feeling unwell instead of waiting until it gets severe. You're lucky Mr. Malfoy found you."

"Yes, ma'am. Um... what about Malfoy?"

"He found you unconscious in the hall and carried you down here."

"He _carried _me?"

"Yes, he did. Then he wiped you down with cool water to help lower your temperature." Harry glanced down at his bare chest and wondered at the blush that heated his cheeks. He was a boy; Malfoy was a boy—what was there to be embarrassed about? Harry decided that the heat in his cheeks must be left over from his fever. "In fact," Madam Pomfrey continued, "Mr. Malfoy slept in the bed next to yours all night, and when he woke up this morning he kept an eye on you for me, so that I could take care of my other patients and not have to worry about getting you medicine as soon as you woke up."

Harry was speechless. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Why what, Mr. Potter?"

"Why did Malfoy do all of that for me?" Madam Pomfrey gave him an odd look.

"Mr. Malfoy was very concerned about your health. He tried his best to make you more comfortable. That's what friends do, Mr. Potter.

Boy, was Madam Pomfrey out of the loop. Harry didn't bother trying to explain to her that he and Malfoy weren't friends. He swung his legs out of bed and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?"

"Um... class?"

"I think not. You need a full day of rest, at the very least."

"But..."

She held up a hand to silence his protests. "If you don't give this virus twenty-four hours to get out of your system then you will still be contagious. Then you may spread it to anyone with Muggle blood, like your friend Miss Granger." That shut him up and Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Now, I'll go get you some chicken noodle soup and crackers and we'll see if it will sit in your stomach without any problems." She bustled out past the curtain and Harry sighed. Glancing down at his bare chest, he got out of bed, wondering where his shirt had gone off to. He found it folded neatly next to the chair beside his bed, and he pulled it back on over his head. Once he was dressed again, he noticed that there was a small rectangle of folded sliver fabric that must have been hidden beneath his shirt. He had almost forgotten completely about his invisibility cloak. When he bent down to pick it up, he noticed that there was a small scrap of parchment resting on top of the cloth. Examining it, he saw that it was a note written in curly, precise handwriting that said:

_I thought this might belong to you._

_D.M._

Malfoy had found his invisibility cloak and, instead of stealing it or crowing about knowing how Harry had always gotten away with so much, he had simply folded it and put it in a place where Harry could easily find it but no one else would see it. What was Malfoy's game? Harry didn't know what Malfoy had up his sleeve, but he planned to find out.

-----------

After leaving the infirmary, Draco headed down the Great Hall for lunch. As soon as he entered the door he was hit by a solid blur of pink.

"Merlin, Pansy," he gasped. "Get off me!" Pansy Parkinson released him from the stranglehold she'd had on him and stepped back.

"Sorry, Draco, but dammit, don't scare me like that! I couldn't find you anywhere! I was afraid _they_ had gotten you." Draco didn't have to ask who she meant by _they_. Both of them knew that the Dark Lord would eventually get impatient with trying to sway him to his side, and sooner or later he would change his orders to "kill on sight".

"Yeah, sorry about that. I spent all night in the infirmary with Potter." A smile curled the edge of his lips, anticipating her reaction to such an outrageous statement.

Sure enough. "You _what_?" she shrieked.

"It's a long story." Pansy raised an eyebrow, saying clearly in that simple gesture that he better spill, and quickly.

Draco explained. After he finished he paused for a moment, and then couldn't hold it in anymore. "My God, Pansy, have you seen Potter close up this year?"

"No, why?"

"Because he looks bloody amazing, that's why. I don't know how any person can change that much over the course of three months."

"Draco...?" Pansy asked carefully.

"Hmm?"

"Do you _like_ Potter?"

"Of course I don't like Potter; we've hated each other for seven years. But yeah, I think I might have the teeniest little crush on him," he admitted, blushing slightly.

"Really, Draco? That's incredible! When was the last time you were actually attracted to someone?" Draco got a funny look on his face, and Pansy paused. "This isn't a new thing, is it?"

Draco looked startled. "Of course it is! I mean, I couldn't have really been attracted to Potter for all these years now... could I?" Draco looked unsure for a second, then shrugged it off. "Come on, let's go get some lunch before it's all gone. I'm starving!" Pansy watched her best friend shovel down food, then glanced to the empty spot at the Gryffindor table where Potter usually sat. Unless Potter was a real bastard, he had to be grateful for what Draco had done for him. And if she could only get them together... She wasn't as surprised as Draco seemed to be that he was attracted to Potter. And unless she missed her guess, which she doubted, Potter felt the same way. Unfortunately, she knew Potter was way too proud to approach Draco on his own. She would just have to... push him along a bit.

------------------

Harry slumped grumpily on the infirmary bed, bored out of his mind. It was after dinner now and Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had already come by, visited, and left. He had nothing else to keep him occupied until the crazy nurse finally let him go, and only God knew when that would be. He saw the curtain move as someone shoved it aside to enter. Great, Pomfrey was back, probably to shove something else down his throat. He swore the woman enjoyed treating him with Muggle medince. He opened his mouth to start complaining to her again, then stopped with his jaw still hanging.

"_Parkinson_?" The Slytherin girl sneered, enjoying his shocked expression. "What are_ you_ doing here?"

"Just came by to see how you were doing," she said sweetly. Harry snorted. "Hey, listen," she, began more seriously, "I need to talk to you."

"About what?" Harry asked nervously. This was so surreal. First Malfoy, now Parkinson.

"Draco told me what he did for you. Now, are you really the insensitive, selfish bastard I pegged you for, or are you going to prove me wrong by thanking him like a decent human being?" Harry opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He really should thank Malfoy. He nodded and Parkinson actually smiled at him.

"Good. Tomorrow night," she said, then started to leave.

"Wait, what's tomorrow night?" he asked, feeling distinctly as though he had been tricked into something.

"That's when you're going to thank Draco. He has the Head room in the Slytherin dungeons."

"Why does it matter when or where I do it?" Harry demanded. Parkinson sighed and sat down on the chair next to his bed.

"Because Draco is lonely," she said softly.

"Lonely?" Harry asked, surprised. Of all the adjectives he had ever applied to Malfoy lonely had never been one of them, but Parkinson nodded sadly, then looked at him for a moment.

"Potter, if you tell Draco I told you this I will made sure you suffer a slow, horrible death, got it? But you need to understand." Harry nodded. "At the end of last school year, Draco refused the Dark Mark."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, now stop interrupting. I renounced my allegiance to the Dark Lord at the same time," she ignored another surprised raising of eyebrows from Harry, "but Draco and I are a completely different story. The Dark Lord didn't really care that I had left, but he had had high hopes for Draco—and the Dark Lord doesn't like to be disappointed. Everyone who Draco has ever considered a friend turned their backs on him, except for me, of course. His father disowned him and cut him off from the family funds. Dumbledore gave him the Head Boy position so that he can have a room to himself and doesn't have to worry about his safety while he sleeps."

"Well, that explains that. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how Malfoy scored the Head Boy position, but that makes more sense." A look from Parkinson reminded him whom he was talking to, and he wisely shut up.

"So, will you go tomorrow?" she asked him. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, I'll go."

"Just make sure you go with an open mind. Draco could really use a friend right now."

Harry nodded again, but he wasn't going to guarantee to her that he and Malfoy would be best buds after one conversation. Come on, that was expecting a bit much. Wasn't it?


	5. An Interesting Visit

Chapter Five: An Interesting Visit

Tugging nervously on his charcoal gray sweatshirt, Harry stared at Malfoy's door, fighting the instinct to run back to his dorm room and crawl into his trunk. This was _so_ embarrassing. He took a deep breath, telling himself that he was a Gryffindor and he wasn't going to take the easy way out. Raising a fist he knocked quickly on the door, praying to himself that Malfoy wasn't there. After a moment, he heard the knob rattle, swiftly crushing those hopes. The door swung open slowly and he got a glimpse of Malfoy, looking nervous but determined with his wand gripped tightly in his hand, before Malfoy saw him and slid his calm mask back in place. It was all the proof Harry needed that Parkinson had been telling the truth.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" he asked. Where had that come from? Harry had just planned to thank Malfoy politely and get out of there, not stay for a chat. Apparently his brain and his mouth were on different circuits.

"Yeah, sure, I guess," Malfoy replied, looking as startled as Harry felt. He backed up and let Harry past him before closing the door and locking it securely. Harry sat down awkwardly in a green armchair, feeling very out of place in all the green and silver décor. Malfoy, on the other hand, eyed him appraisingly. He thought the colors of the room set off Harry's eyes and hair very nicely.

"This room is amazing," Harry said, trying to break the ice. "I'd love to have a room like this all to myself."

"Yeah, it's nice," Malfoy said, noncommittally. "Not that I mind or anything, but why are you here, Potter?"

"I wanted to thank you. For what you did for me the other night."

"Oh, that. It was no problem. It's not like I could have just left you in that hallway." He caught a glimpse of Harry's expression and frowned. "Do you really believe that of me, Potter?" he asked softly.

"I don't know what I believe anymore!" Harry said, throwing his arms up helplessly. "You're so different from how you used to be—or at least how I thought you were."

Malfoy inclined his head slightly. "I completely understand where you're coming from. A lot of my perceptions have been changing recently as well. You're not as horribly proud and conceited as I thought you were, either."

"Why, thank you," Harry said dryly, but he smiled. "Since we were both so wrong about each other, what do you say to... getting to know each other a bit better?" A picture flashed through Harry's mind of just how much better he'd like to get to know Malfoy, but he pushed it aside. Now was _not_ the time. Draco flashed him a ghost of a smile.

"Sure. Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, extending his hand to Harry. Catching on, Harry grinned back.

"Harry Potter," he said, clasping Malfoy's hand. He felt a strange moment of reluctance when Malfoy let go. "Nice to meet you. So," he said, wondering how to bring up this subject without letting on that Parkinson had told him a lot of it, "why exactly _are_ you acting so differently this year?"

When Malfoy hesitated, Harry wasn't sure he was actually going to tall him, but then the blond made himself comfortable on the foot of his bed. "It's a long story," he said.

"I've got time," he told him, sitting down next to Draco. "I was planning on ignoring my homework tonight anyway." Malfoy's lips twitched. Was that almost a smile?

"All right then. I just... did some thinking awhile back. For the first time, I sorted out what I believe in from what my father believes in. Sure, I'm Pureblood, and proud of it, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I think Muggleborn wizards should die. I don't even think that they're inferior to Pureblood wizards. The amount of skill and power you have doesn't have anything to do with your bloodline. Look at Granger; I may not really like the girl, but even I have to admit that she's good. And Filch, he's from a long line of very prestigious Pureblood wizards, and look how he turned out. So that was one major difference my father and I have." Malfoy said, putting up an index finger. "Then, he expected me to agree with the Pureblood tradition of arranged marriages, and there was no way in hell I was going to marry the arrogant bitch that he set me up with. Point number two." Malfoy put up another finger. "And finally, the major disagreement was about the Dark Lord. I was expected to accept the Dark Mark on my seventeenth birthday, pledge my allegiance to the Dark Lord, then climb the ranks until I was his favorite servant or something. Well, Malfoys are not servants," he announced defiantly. "And the Dark Lord's followers are more like slaves than servants, anyway. And I didn't particularly want to run around killing and striking fear in people's hearts and such. I want to live a quite life. Maybe succeed Professor Snape as the Potions teacher or study Potions on my own and develop new ones." Malfoy stopped, surprised at himself. The only person he'd ever told of his plans for the future so far had been Pansy. Why had he, the Master of Self-Control, just blabbed his most closely-guarded dreams to his former archenemy? "Anyway," he continued, trying to ignore the ranting of his ingrained habits for the slip. He held up a third finger. "That was strike three, so I was out."

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering where Malfoy could have picked up the Muggle baseball terminology. "It sounds like you've had it rough. It couldn't have been easy to redefine yourself after so many years of being brainwashed to believe what your father wanted you to."

"No, it wasn't easy." Malfoy was silent for a moment, the look on his face introspective. After a brief, yet comfortable silence, Malfoy snapped out of his reverie and glanced at the intricate, gold wizard's watch on his wrist. "It's almost midnight Potter. You should probably go back pretty soon." He raised an elegant, blond eyebrow. "I trust you have your invisibility cloak with you."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. That reminds me—thanks for that, too. I'd forgotten all about the cloak until I found it where you put it. You didn't even try to take advantage of the situation."

_I'd like to take advantage of the situation, all right_, Draco thought to himself. But not in the way Potter meant. He was careful to make sure none of his thoughts showed on his face. "The knowledge was enough of an award in itself. I always have wondered how I got bombarded by snowballs by your disembodied head during third year. Now I know."

"Yeah," Harry said with a laugh. "You know my secret now. Well anyway, thanks." He stood up and Malfoy stood too, leaving only about a foot of space between them. Harry wondered why he felt short of breath all of a sudden.

Then, without any warning, Malfoy's room was rocked by an explosion that made the door bend in with a groan. In a flash, Harry, wand already in hand, had spun Malfoy and pinned him to the wall behind the door. He saw a flash of stark panic in Malfoy's silver eyes as the door bulged in again, splintering wood shrieking as it desperately tried to hold together.

"You've got good wards on that thing," he commented. Malfoy nodded mutely, but Harry saw that he'd recovered his wits enough to have his wand clenched in his left hand. Harry winced as one more blast made the door fly off its hinges and smash against the opposite wall. Five people in full Death Eater regalia, skull masks and all, swarmed into the room, shouting curses.

"Petrificus totalus!" Harry yelled, hitting the first Death Eater squarely in the chest. He wobbled for a moment, then fell flat on his face, tripping one of his comrades, who flailed around as he got tangled in his robes. Harry shook his head and froze him with Impedimenta. Concentrating on the people before him, he barely ducked a curse that sparkled with sickeningly familiar green light from one of the Death Eaters in the back.

"Stupefy!" Malfoy yelled from behind him, and the Death Eater crumpled. Harry caught a glimpse of rage twisting Malfoy's usually calm, handsome face, and had a glimmer of hope that the source of his rage was that Harry's life had been threatened. Though this whole situation could make anyone angry. Harry didn't recognize any of the curses that the Death Eaters were using, so he assumed that they were all Dark ones that he really didn't want to get hit by. He sidestepped another curse thrown his way, this one a violent orange, and Stupefied the caster.

The room fell deathly quiet; Malfoy must have already knocked out the last one. Where was Malfoy? Harry spun around and spotted him kneeling on the floor next to a fallen Death Eater. The Death Eater's mask had rolled off and Harry recognized the square-jawed face of Gregory Goyle.

"Malfoy?" he asked, but the blond didn't even look up. Harry felt a surge of panic, afraid that Malfoy had been hit by one of the many unknown Dark spells the Death Eaters had so casually tossed around. "Malfoy?" he repeated, kneeling on the forest-green carpet in front of the Slytherin. Now that he was closer, he saw that the blond was shaking. Harry reached out and cupped Malfoy's cold cheek in his warm palm. "Draco?" Harry murmured. The blond raised his head and Harry was struck by the broken, hollow look in his silver eyes.

"They were my friends," Draco whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, Draco," Harry said softly. Without thinking, Harry put his arms around the blond and pulled him close. Draco stiffened for a moment, then shocked them both by bursting into tears. Harry tightened his grip and whispered comforting nonsense while sobs wracked the smaller boy's body. "They weren't your friends, not really. If they had been, none of this would have happened."

"They would have died if they'd remained loyal to me," Draco said in a muffled voice. "Though now that they've failed to kill me they'll die anyway, either rotting in Azkaban or by the Dark Lord's hand." The Slytherin began to regain some of his composure just as Professor Snape dashed into view, robes askew, black eyes wide and greasy hair swinging as he slid to a stop in Draco's doorway. Harry had never seen Snape look so disarrayed. His alarmed gaze took in the five black-clad bodies on the floor, then froze as he caught sight of Harry and Draco. Seeing Harry in Draco's room after midnight seemed to disturb him more than the Death Eaters on the floor, even though by the time he'd noticed them Draco had stepped out of Harry's embrace and had placed himself an appropriate distance away from the other boy.

"What's going on here?" Snape demanded as his mind tried futilely to make sense of what, to him, was a completely nonsensical situation.

"Draco was attacked," Harry said simply, decided it was best to avoid the subject of why he was there for right now.

"Are they..." Snape began cautiously, gesturing to the still forms. Draco cast him a disgusted look.

"Of course we didn't kill them. They're Stupefied, or Petrified, or such." Snape nodded, then waved his wand to ensure that all five of them were securely bound, then went around collecting their wands.

"We should inform the Headmaster of tonight's events. All of us," he said, looking severely at Harry. Harry shrugged and followed them muttering, "Sure, like Dumbledore doesn't know already."

_"Levicorpus,_"Snape muttered, pointing his wand at one of the masked students. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "I do not feel secure leaving them here, and if you two do not assist me it will take all night to get them to the Headmaster." Harry and Draco each chose a body—Harry noticed that Draco had chosen Goyle. As the headed towards Dumbledore's office, he kept waiting for Draco to run him into a wall, or a statue, but Draco did nothing. He didn't seem to be completely with them, and Harry was a bit worried that he'd gone into shock. Snape stopped at Dumbledore's door and knocked sharply.

"Come in," they heard the Headmaster say from the other side. Harry thought he sounded tired. Snape opened the door and Harry saw that Dumbledore was seated in an armchair turned toward the window, gazing at the stars with Fawkes perched on his shoulder. After a moment, Dumbledore yanked his eyes from the starscape at glanced at his visitors. Clearly he wasn't expecting what he saw, because he looked momentarily startled before recovering his composure.

He took in the floating forms in front of them, and simply asked, "It happened, then?"

"Draco was attacked tonight, Albus," Snape announced, unceremoniously allowing his burden to fall to the floor. Harry and Draco followed suite in a slightly gentler manner. "There are two more. I will return shortly with them, if you wish to question these two," Snape said, his eyes finding Harry once more, clearly curious about what his part in tonight's events had been.

"Yes, thank you Severus," Dumbledore said. Snape disappeared with a swirl of his cloak, and Dumbledore's attention returned to the two boys. "Now then, Mr. Malfoy, would you care to tell me what happened?"

Draco opened his mouth, tried to speak, and then shook his head. Harry noticed that the other boy moved slightly closer to himself, as though seeking comfort. Harry reached out to him, and Draco stepped into his embrace, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist, and pressing his face into Harry's shoulder. Harry could feel him shivering, and he pulled the boy as tightly against his own body as he could.

"I can tell the story, Headmaster," Harry told him, noticing wryly that a bit of the twinkle had returned to Dumbledore's eyes.

"Yes, that would be fine, Harry."

Harry told the story in as much detail as he could remember—respectfully leaving out Draco's breakdown—from the time the door blew in to the moment they arrived in the Headmaster's office. Snape returned with the last two, bound together so he could lift them as one.

"And why was Potter involved in this quarrel?" the Potion master sneered, as the newest additions were dropped into the tangle of limbs on the floor.

Harry shrugged again. "I just happened to be there."

Draco spoke up for the first time. "I don't think I would have stood a chance if Harry hadn't been there," he said quietly. "I may be a better wizard than any of them, but five against one are unpleasant odds."

"And what was Mr. Potter doing in your room after curfew?" Dumbledore asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow.

"I wanted to thank him for helping me when I was sick the other day. We got to talking, and I guess we just lost track of the time," Harry explained.

"I see," Dumbledore commented. "Severus, if you would please unmask them?" The potion master did as he was bid.

"Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini, and Miss Bulstrode." He sighed and looked so very tired and sad. "I suppose I should call the Minister. No matter," he decided, turning back to the others. "I will take care of it once you all have left. No sense in dragging you into matters with the Ministry. Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Malfoy back to his room?" Harry nodded and he and Draco left. Dumbledore stared after them for a long moment, a contemplative expression on his face until Snape cleared his throat.

"Would you like me to stay and help explain the matter to the Minister?"

"Yes, please," Dumbledore said with a tired smile. "A little help would be much appreciated."

------------------

Hours later, the five Slytherins had been taken to Azkaban to await their trials. Dumbledore felt sick condemning five of his students to that terrible, godforsaken place, but he hadn't really had any other choice. Fawkes glided over and landed on his knee, pulling him out of his melancholy reverie.

"So, my dear, what do you think of our Misters Potter and Malfoy?"

_"I think I'm going to win the bet. I told you so," _Fawkes replied. Dumbledore could almost feel his smugness.

"You haven't won anything yet," Dumbledore cautioned him, but inwardly he very much hoped that Fawkes was correct.


	6. Small Miracles

Chapter Six: Small Miracles

The chirruping of his watch alarm dragged Draco out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He lay in bed, eyes closed, as the memories from the night before came rushing back. He didn't want to get up, didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to think about anything. Of all the things that might have been going through his head just then, the only one that mattered to him was "Oh god, I so totally messed up my chances with Potter." He had had such high hopes that his new relationship with Potter would turn into more than a friendship but then everything had gone wrong. Harry had nearly_ died_ because of him. Draco still went cold when he thought of how close that Killing Curse had come to hitting Harry. After that was all over, Draco had humiliated himself by freaking out and bawling all over Harry's shirt. Real smooth, Draco.But, god—the feel of Harry's arms around him had completely undone him. When was the last time anybody had actually held him? And, he can't forget that when the first explosion had startled them, Harry's first instinct had been to pin Draco to the wall, shielding him with his own body. Draco's cynical side said that it had just been Harry's hero-complex taking over, but maybe, just maybe Harry had been genuinely concerned for Draco's safety. Draco sighed, then frowned as he realized that he couldn't remember actually getting to his room last night—or, he supposed, earlier this morning. Which meant that Harry had had to help him. He groaned inwardly and wondered if anyone would miss him if he didn't get out of bed today. He registered vaguely that his watch was still chirping at him.

"Will you _please _turn that damn thing off?" a groggy voice muttered beside him, causing Draco to nearly fall of the bed. He turned his head and found himself staring into the face of a miracle.

"Potter?" he asked, dumbfounded. The raven-haired boy frowned at him.

"What happened to you calling me Harry?" he asked, though his question was cut off by a yawn as Harry stretched. Draco's eyes snapped to the hem of Harry's shirt, which was riding up just enough to give Draco a quick glimpse of Harry's well-toned stomach.

"Sorry," he said, tearing his eyes from the fascinating view. "Habit."

"What time is it?" Harry asked as he stifled another yawn, climbing out of Draco's bed. Draco glanced at his watch.

"Almost 6:40," he replied, looking curiously at Harry as he froze.

"In the morning? What the hell?" Harry demanded. "Are you completely and totally insane? We were up to god-knows-when last night and you wake me up at six-freakin'-thirty in the_ morning_?"

Draco had a hard time smothering the smile he felt forming from Harry's shock and indignation. "I'm sorry, your Highness," he said, allowing himself a small smile. "Now you'll have an entire hour to get ready for the day before breakfast starts."

"I don't_ need_ a bloody hour to get ready!"

"Well," Draco replied, smiling wider in spite of himself, "maybe you can actually do something decent with your hair for a change."

Harry started to growl and answer, then noticed that Draco was almost—laughing! "What's so funny?" he demanded, but Draco's smile was infectious.

"I just think you're very amusing when you're indignant." _No,_ his brain told him, _you think he's extremely cute when he's indignant._ Draco told it to shut up.

"I'm here to entertain," Harry said dryly, now fully resigned to being awake at some godforsaken, early hour after maybe three hours of sleep. "I guess I might as well go back to my dorm and get a shower, since I didn't get one last night."

"You can use mine if you want," Draco blurted. Harry looked startled, then seemed to consider it before shaking his head.

"I don't have any clothes to change into," he pointed out, and Draco nodded. It was probably for the best. The thought of Harry in the shower was distracting enough without thinking of Harry in _his_ shower. "Hey, I've got a question," Harry said suddenly.

"Hmm?" Draco prompted.

"Do you want to keep this... friendship... a secret or is it all right if people know?" he asked. Draco thought for a minute, then shrugged.

"I don't care. It would completely ruin my reputation if it became public knowledge that I was... friends... with a Gryfindor, but it would also be highly amusing to see the looks on their faces. Speaking of which, what are you going to tell Weasley when he asks where you were last night?"

Harry snorted. "He won't be up until five minutes before breakfast at the very earliest. He probably won't even know I never slept in my own bed." Without warning, he smiled a very evil, very sexy smile.

"What?" Draco asked, ignoring the sudden speeding of his pulse.

"I'd love to see the look on his face if I told him I spent the night with you." His smile grew even wider. "Especially that I slept in the same bed as you."

Draco let out a short bark of laughter. "Good lord, he'd have an apoplectic fit." He hesitated, then started to frame a question around the subject he was dying to know, no matter how slim the chances where of the answer being a good one. "Would he even believe for a moment that you'd sleep with a guy?"

Harry gave another undignified snort. "He'd just have to ask Hermione and Ginny, considering he's the only one of my friends who doesn't know that I'm gay."

Draco's jaw dropped. "Seriously?" he asked incredulously, inwardly thrilled. "I always thought you and Granger..."

Harry laughed. "No, Hermione is Ron's girl, or will be as soon as he stops being so dense. Is it really that surprising that I like guys?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Draco said slowly. "I guess not. I just never thought you'd have that in common with me." It took a second for Draco's reply to sink into Harry's brain.

"_Seriously_?" he asked, echoing Draco's earlier exclamation. "What about the whole 'Malfoy the Sex God' thing—and Pansy?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stories told by jealous girls who want to boost their reputations, that's all that is. And Pansy's been my best friend forever. Pansy, Snape, and now you, are the only ones who know that I'm gay."

"Wow," Harry said. "You learn something new every day." He started pulling on his shoes. "I've got to go if I want to have enough time to get a decent shower."

"All right then, I'll see you later," he said, getting out of bed himself to see Harry out. Harry nodded and opened the door to a silent hallway.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"What time is it now?" Puzzled by the question, Draco glanced at Harry, then back down to his watch.

"It's 6:55 now. Why?"

"Breakfast starts in almost half an hour. Shouldn't more people be awake?"

"Yeah," Draco said, frowning. "There should be people going back and forth between the showers and such by now."

"Draco, what day is it today?" Harry asked hesitantly. Draco thought for a moment, then looked down at his watch again, which also told him the day, month, year, and so on.

"Shit. It's Saturday," he said, looking back up at Harry, waiting for him to freak out again. Harry nodded slowly, closing the door gently. Then, in one movement, he turned around and launched himself at Draco, surprising him and sending both of them toppling backwards onto the bed. Draco looked up at Harry, very aware of every line of Harry's body that was pressing him into the bed. Harry's eyes shone with amusement, and he blew a little puff of air to get a dark lock of hair out of his eyes. Draco loved how Harry's eyes showed his every emotion, happy, determined, compassionate, indignant. Amused. Harry had no mask, and Draco envied his ability to show his emotions.

"Not only," Harry began in an ominously low voice, although a contradictory smile of amusement still played on his lips, "did you wake me up at six thirty in the morning, you woke me up at six thirty in the morning on a weekend. After three hours of sleep. You will pay for that." His fingers somehow ended up on Draco's sides. Draco's eyes widened.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I _so_ would, my dear."

"No—" Draco's retort was cut off by Harry's fingers as Draco squirmed and squealed. Fighting to get away, he managed to roll over so that he was now sitting on top Harry. Harry wriggled beneath him, eyes still glowing, laughing freely. He took Draco's breath away. Harry managed, with much interesting squirming, to get one of his arms free of Draco's body. He reached up, and before Draco realized his intent, ran his fingers through Draco's blond hair, smiling evilly.

"Oh no," Draco gasped, appalled. "You messed up my hair, didn't you?" Harry nodded, then grabbed Draco's ankle as he made a dash for the mirror and pulled him back down on top of him. After a few more minutes of wrestling, Harry was back on top and both boys were panting, completely worn out. Harry yawned as the lack of sleep began to catch back up to him and he snuggled his face into the bend of Draco's neck. Draco listened as his breathing evened and he began to sleep. He closed his eyes as well, but was sure that sleep would never come, not when every nerve in his body was singing at Harry's heartbeat against his chest, at his warm breath tickling his neck. He closed his eyes just for a minute, and passed softly into sleep.

A few hours later, Draco awoke again, smiling at the wonderful dream he'd just had, then smiling even wider as the weight on his chest told him that it hadn't been a dream at all. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into Harry's still-sleeping face. He looked so peaceful. His still form struck Draco as odd, and he realized that whenever he saw Harry he was always full of energy, always moving. It was strange to see him still for once. As if sensing Draco's gaze, Harry's amazing emerald eyes flickered open. Draco watched, fascinated, as those expressive eyes filled with joy.

"Hi," Harry whispered sleepily.

"Hi," Draco replied, almost too soft to hear. They were both startled by a knock on the door. Draco groaned and slid out of the warm bed and away from Harry's warm body to see who it was. He swung the door open just far enough to look out. Weasley waited on the other side of the door, freckles standing out clearly in a face paled by nervousness.

"M-Malfoy," he stuttered, then furrowed his brow in determination and glared. "What did you do to Harry?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?"

"I know Harry came to talk to you last night. I told him it was a bad idea, and no one has seen him since then. What have you done to him?

"I've done nothing to Potter," Draco said with a smirk. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Harry's wink. He almost slipped and let his smirk turn into a smile, but he wasn't the master of masks for nothing. "At least, nothing he didn't want done to him."

"What do you mean by that? Let me talk to Harry!" Weasley insisted. Draco sighed heavily.

"Wait here. I'll go ask him if he wants to talk to you." He closed the door and turned back to Harry. "You've got something up your sleeve, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning wickedly. Draco really wished he would stop smiling like that. It was wreaking havoc with his self-control. Nobody should look that incredibly sexy when they're up to no good. His jaw dropped open as Harry began to tug his sweatshirt over his head.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

"Tormenting Ron. Do you mind?" Harry asked, once he'd pulled it off and tossed it on the floor. Draco shook his head, speechless. He'd been dying to see Harry shirtless since the day he got sick and sure enough, he looked as amazing as he had the first time. Tugging off the shirt had messed Harry's hair up even more than usual and he'd had bed-head in the first place. Harry glanced in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair to stick it up some more, then slid his belt out of his pants and unbuttoned the top button. Draco watched, entranced. After one last check in the mirror, Harry turned back to Draco and smiled that smile again. Oh God, if he wasn't careful, Draco was seriously going to jump him right here, right now.

"How do I look?" Harry asked in a low, sultry voice. Draco swallowed convulsively, then grinned back.

"Scandalous."

"Perfect," Harry smiled again and repeated "Are you sure you don't mind? I'd just love to see his face." Draco smiled wider.

"Let me go out first. This will be too good to miss." Harry nodded and Draco slipped back out to the hallway.

"Harry will be out in a moment," he told the impatient Weasley. He's just making himself a bit more... presentable."

"What do you mean by that?" Weasley demanded. Draco shrugged, fighting hard to keep a gleeful smile off his face. After a moment, the door opened again and Harry sauntered out. The look on Weasley's face was priceless. His jaw dropped nearly to his knees.

"Hey Ron," Harry said, stifling a fake yawn. "What's up?"

"H-Harry," the very white red-head stammered. "What the_ hell_?"

"You really should work on that stutter," Draco advised.

"Thanks for the concern, Ron, but I really am fine. I just spent the night with Draco last night."

"What do you mean you _spent the night_? Like, you _slept_ with him?"

Harry shot an amused look at Draco. Technically, that was correct. "Yeah, I slept with him. Why?"

"But he's _Malfoy_! And a guy!"

"No, he's Draco, and I know very well that he's a guy. I happen to like guys."

"You can't be serious!"

"Why not? You're not like homophobic or something are you Ron?"

Weasley fell silent for a moment. "I don't know. I guess not. It's just awful... sudden. And it's _Malfoy_."

"You seem rather stuck on that point. Anyway, it's not all that sudden. Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and god knows who else, all know that I'm gay. I was just afraid you wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore if you knew. I know how you are about things that go against the normal social structure."

"Did everyone know about you and Malfoy but me?" Weasley demanded.

"You mean me and Draco as a couple?" Harry asked, and Weasley nodded. "Well, actually, I'm not even sure we are one. Hey, Draco?"

"What?"

"Want to be my boyfriend?" he asked.

Draco looked startled. He looked into Harry's expressive eyes and saw that he was dead serious. This was no joke. "I'd love to be your boyfriend," he said, then felt dazzled by the smile Harry gave him.

"There," Harry said, turning back to Weasley, "you're the first one to know about me and Draco. Does that make you feel better?"

"It shouldn't," Weasley said, a small smile starting, "but somehow it does. I'm sorry if you thought I wouldn't want to be your friend because of who you like. I can't say I'm happy about it, or comfortable with it, but you're my best mate. It's take a lot more than you revealing that you like guys to change that. Now, dating Malfoy is pushing it a bit, and I wouldn't suggest snogging in front of me, or anything disgusting like that because otherwise, in order to protect my sanity, I'm going to pretend nothing's happening between you two. OK?"

"Sounds fair to me. Thanks for understanding, Ron," Harry said, giving his best friend a hug.

"You being gay does explain a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like the way you act with Hermione. I'm actually a bit relieved that you like guys 'cuz for awhile there I was really afraid that you might have a crush on her. And that would be awkward."

"Why?" Harry asked, grinning impudently. "Do _you_ have a crush on Hermione?" Weasely's face turned as red as his hair.

"Don't play all innocent with me. I know you know I like her."

"Yeah, since like first year."

"Seriously?" Weasely asked, brow furrowed. "I only figured it out when she was dating Krum and I felt so bloody jealous."

"That's because you're dense, Ron."

"Hey!" Weasely protested indignantly. "I am not. Hey," he said suddenly, "has Hermione said anything to you about me?"  
"Maybe she has and maybe she hasn't, I'm not telling," Harry declared in a sing-song voice. "Ask her yourself." Weasely growled at him playfully.

"Well, I guess I'm going to go have breakfast."

"You came to find me _before_ getting breakfast? Good lord, now I really feel loved. Not much deters you from your breakfast." Weasely made a face, then smiled.

"I'll leave you two alone then. See you, Harry." Harry and Draco watched Ron ascend the steps to the Entrance Hall.

"I can't wait to tell Hermione!" Harry said with a squeal the instant that Ron was gone. Draco shook his head at him.

"I really can't believe anyone thinks you're straight if you act like that."

"Well, around Ron I usually tried to tone that sort of stuff down." He grinned. "I guess I can act however I want now."

"So you really want me to be your boyfriend? You weren't just saying that to shock Ron?"

"Draco, I'd give just about everything I have just to have you as my boyfriend."

"Really?" Draco asked, feeling oddly warm and snuggly inside.

"Definitely. Especially considering I've liked you... for almost as long as Ron's liked Hermione."

"Seriously? Since like first year?" Draco asked, thunderstruck. Harry nodded sheepishly, an attractive blush creeping across his cheeks. "Wow. That's cool." Draco turned around and led the way back into his room, closing the door softly behind them.

"So what do you want to do today?" Harry asked, sprawling himself across Draco's bed. It reminded him very forcibly of Harry's current attire.

"Well, you know, I've been dying to see you shirtless since I got to take off your shirt the other day in the infirmary."

Harry quirked a dark eyebrow. "_Really_ now," he said in a deep, sensuous voice. Draco nodded with a blush. "Well, looks like you're in luck."

"Yes, I'm very lucky." Draco hesitated for a moment. "Can I..." he gestured to the empty spot on the bed next to Harry, blushing even deeper. Harry nodded.

"It _is_ your bed, after all." Yes, that was right. Harry Potter was in _his_ bed. Lord Almighty, miracles did happen. Draco sat down next to him, unable to pull his eyes away from the sight of his bare chest. "This isn't very fair, you know," Harry said suddenly.

"Huh? What's not?"

"I'm shirtless and your not. I think we should even the score a bit."

"You don't want to see me shirtless."

"Oh, yes, I do. Trust me." Draco bit his lip and looked at the floor for a moment, then began unbuttoning his shirt. "May I?" Harry asked. Draco nodded, heart thudding. Harry's long, graceful fingers reached for the buttons. He fumbled for a moment at each one and Draco was sure he was doing it on purpose. His skin burned with the need to have those fingers touching it instead of the cloth of his shirt. The last button finally gave, and Harry slid the shirt off Draco's shoulders. He stared, frozen for a long moment and Draco began to feel self-conscious. That is, until he noticed the lust darkening his new boyfriend's eyes. Draco smiled cockily.

"Are you going to stare all day or are you going to use those fingers of yours?"

"Are you sure you want me too? We're going pretty fast for our first day as a couple."

"Well, considering you've liked me for nearly seven years, and I've liked you for about the same time..."

"_What_?"

Draco ignored him and continued, "we have the right to move at whatever speed we're comfortable at."

"You've seriously liked me since like first year?"

"Yes, I seriously have. Now, I'm going to mind if you _don't_ touch me—and soon." Harry grinned at him and reached a hand to run his fingers softly across Draco's chest.

"I have no idea why you thought I wouldn't want to see you without a shirt on. You're—statuesque. Like you're carved out of beautiful, flawless marble. But no marble is so warm." He caressed his fingers down Draco's stomach and grinned. "Or shivers when I touch it." Draco closed his eyes and savored the feeling of Harry's fingers against his skin. Then, he opened his eyes again. Harry had a millisecond to catch the gleam in Draco's eyes and know he was in trouble before Draco reached his hand out and rested his palm against Harry's bare chest. He felt Harry's steady heartbeat begin to speed up as he traced lazy paths across his stomach with his other hand. Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. Draco groaned.

"Now what?" He went over to the door and opened it a crack. Pansy was standing there, purse on her arm.

"Hey, Draco," she said, looking startled. "Good lord, it's nearly ten o'clock and you're not dressed yet? That's not like you. You said you'd go to Hogsmeade with me today, remember?" Draco groaned again. He'd forgotten completely about the Hogsmeade trip. "By the way, you look amazing without a shirt," Pansy added with a brazen grin. Draco made a face, then closed his eyes as he felt an arm go around his waist from behind and a bare chest slide against his back.

"That's what I said," Harry told Pansy, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder. Pansy's eyes widened.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry Draco; I didn't know," she gasped. "You don't have to come to Hogsmeade with me if you don't want." She couldn't believe her plan actually worked. She wanted to go find a place where she jump up and down. Victories like this deserved a victory dance.

Draco shook his head. "A promise is a promise. Do you mind, Harry?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"No, not at all." Not quite true, Harry thought, but there was no need to be selfish.

"Do you want to come with us Pott- Harry?" Pansy asked, switching from his last name to his first name halfway through. Hey, if the boy was going to be her best friend's lover, she could call him by his first name.

"Are you sure I wouldn't be in the way?" Harry asked, looking adorably insecure.

"Of course not, silly," Draco insisted. "This way we can find you some decent clothes."

"Hey, what's wrong with my clothes?"

"The fact that they're terrible, that's what."

"OK, so I've gone shopping with Ron the last couple of years. So sue me."

"Huh?" Draco asked, not understanding the Muggle phrase.

"Never mind," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I guess I'll get dressed again and go back up to my dorm. I never did get that shower."

"That's OK, I like it when you're dirty."

"And exactly how many ways did you mean _that_?"

"A couple. Just don't come near me after a hard Quidditch practice."

"Well you've screwed yourself now. I'll purposely seek you out after Quidditch practice when I'm absolutely _slick_ with sweat," Harry murmured, his voice dropping to the low, teasing voice that made Draco instantly rock hard. Draco covered his ears with his hands and groaned. He wasn't sure how much more teasing he was going to be able to stand today. Their romantic banter was interrupted by Pansy's laughter.

"I hope you guys aren't planning on doing that all day," Pansy said. "Or I'll desert you guys quick."

"You promise?" Pansy gave her best friend a sharp whack on the head. "Be nice," she told him. "Hurry up and get ready, you two, I want to go _shopping_!"


	7. Class and Closet Choices

Chapter Seven: Class and Closet Choices

Five hours later, Harry returned to the Gryffindor dorm room hauling bags and bags of more clothes than he could ever possibly wear in his lifetime. As he began hanging up is new shirts in the wardrobe, Ron walked in and shook his head at him.

"How did I ever think you were straight?" he asked, eying the fine clothing. "Is that _silk_?"

"Well, I generally don't enjoy shopping any more than you do, but Draco and Pansy made it a lot of fun."

"Pansy? As in _Parkinson_?" Bloody hell, you really are a lost cause."

"They're not so bad, Ron, trust me. So what did you do today?"

"Well, since I didn't figure I wouldn't be seeing _you_ for awhile, I asked Hermione to go to Hogsmeade with me. I'm so glad Dumbledore decided to let us go out to the village more often this year."

Harry nearly dropped the shirt he was holding. "Did you ask Hermione to go with you as a friend or as a date?"

Ron's face matched his hair as he muttered, "As a date."

Harry cheered and gave his best mate a hug. "It's about bloody time."

"Shut up."

After a short discussion, Draco decided that he wanted his and Harry's relationship to remain quiet for right now. He wasn't quite ready for the uproar it would cause. So, Monday morning, Draco and Harry ate breakfast in the Great Hall as always, pretending that nothing had changed between them. Harry sat in his usual place, facing away from Draco, but he could almost swear that he felt Draco's eyes on him the entire time. He must have imagined it though, because when he looked around, Draco was scanning a page of the Daily Prophet with a bored look on his face.

What Harry didn't know was that Draco stared at the same page of the paper from the moment Harry slunk in, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, to the time that he got up and left, and he never read a single word.

Once he was done with breakfast, Harry cheerfully gathered his books. It was only after Ron shot him an odd look that Harry realized that he was actually looking forward to double Potions because it would mean double Draco. Good lord, that boy really had messed with his brain.

The trio of Gryffindors descended the stairs to the dungeons, and Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw a single, blond-headed figure leaning next to the door of Snape's classroom. As Harry approached, Draco pushed off the wall and walked to meet him until they were standing toe-to-toe.

"Potter," Draco drawled, his customary arrogance in place. Only Harry saw the glint of amusement in those cool, silver eyes.

"Malfoy," Harry replied in an equally disgusted tone, fighting the giddy smile that strongly wanted to spread itself across his face. "Get your slimy Slytherin arse out of my way. I'm _trying _to get to class."

Draco leaned forward, his face barely inches from Harry's. "Make me, Potter."

Losing the fight with his smile, Harry glanced around to make sure that no one but Ron and Hermione were around, then whispered "I'd rather... convince you." Then he leaned in the rest of the way and planted a heated kiss on Draco's soft lips. He pulled back after a moment and chuckled at the look on his boyfriend's face. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, Harry ducked around him to get through the door. His friends followed soon after, Hermione struggling not to giggle and Ron looking torn between amusement and nausea. Snape glowered at them from the front of the classroom.

"Potter, Weasely, Granger. Sit down. Ten points from Gryffindor—each—for tardiness." Draco walked in a good three minutes after them, composure regained, and Snape didn't say a word. The rest of the class had already assembled the ingredients for the day's potion, so Snape silently set the small vials on Draco's desk, causing all but one of the Gryffindors to scowl at the unfairness.

While Snape's back was turned, Harry sent his boyfriend a saucy wink, which Draco pointedly ignored, though Harry thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Unfortunately, he hadn't been quick enough.

"Something in your eye, Potter?"

"Yes sir. Pixie dust," Harry said, holding up the sparkling vial and forcing his face blank. "Dreadful stuff, you know."

----------------------

Harry wasn't feeling quite so smug a couple of hours later.

"Listen up," Professor Tonks said from the front of the classroom, waving her arms to get the students' attention. "It's time to reveal your first project for this year," she announced, seeming cheerfully oblivious to the groaning of the class. "You each will be researching a Dark Spell—besides the three Unforgivables of course, everyone already knows about them—a Dark wizard, or a famous battle between the Dark and the Light. You will compile your information into a presentation that you will share with the class one week from now." More groans. "You will each have a turn to teach your classmates what you've learned through a lecture as well as stuff like three-dimensional models and other creative junk, and I need a bibliography. Here's a list of plausible topics," she said, and with a wave of her wand the front chalkboard revealed several dozen choices scribbled on it in Tonk's spiky handwriting. "Once you decide, come up and tell me which topic you've chosen. Only one person per topic, so the faster you choose the more likely you are to get what you want." With much grumbling, the class got up and peered at the list.

"This will be so much fun!"

"All right, Hermione," Harry said, smiling at his excited friend. "Can you give me a brief overview of the stuff I might be interested in? I haven't heard of any of this stuff."

"Yeah, please Hermione?" Ron wheedled. Hermione tried to look disapproving and failed miserably.

"Oh, all right. Ron, I think you would enjoy researching the Battle of Yeti Pass. Wizarding generals developed all sorts of magical warfare and battle strategies that only you would understand."

"Awesome," Ron said, then dashed off to where Tonks was standing to put his name on the list.

"Just a second, Hermione," Harry said, when she began explaining some of the other topics to him. "I have an idea." He made his way through the mob of students surrounding his favorite teacher. "Hey, Tonks, I have a topic suggestion that isn't on the board" he said quietly in her ear.

"Hold on a moment," Tonks told the other students. "What's your idea, Harry?" "Could I do Riddle?"

The pink-haired professor looked surprised, then considered it for a moment.

"Actually, I think that would be a great idea. It would be good if we could teach these hooligans some practical information about him, and you'd definitely be the best one to do it—but it wouldn't be fair to the others. You wouldn't have to research it at all."

"Exactly," Harry said with a wide grin and Tonks gave him a Look.

"I tell you what, if you prepare a bit and do a presentation on You-Know-Who as well as whichever one you do for your project grade I'll give you a handful of extra credit and house points, what do you think?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, I was hoping to get out of most of the work, not end up with more, but I see your point. Sure, I'll do two. I don't know what else I'll choose though."

"Hmmm." She looked over the list on the board. The topics that had already been taken had magically crossed off. "I think you'll find the Parvulus Curse interesting."

"All right. Thanks, Professor."

------------------------

After dinner that night, instead of hanging out with Draco like he very much wanted to do, Harry dragged his tired arse to the library with Ron and Hermione. He thought bleakly of the other Gryffindors happily chatting in front of the fire as they put off their projects until the last couple of days before it was due. Those people didn't have Hermione Granger as a best friend. Harry sighed and touched his wand to the magical card catalog. Instantly, several shelves shot open and Harry caught the cards that flew into the air. He read the book titles on a few of them, but when he got to the third one, he blushed and hastily shoved it back. Apparently the card catalog had gotten mixed messages about what Harry _needed_. He couldn't believe the library actually _had_ books about that. He carefully read over the rest, but it looked like that card had been the only one to get confused. He collected a few of the books and sat down at a table near the back, next to Ron. Harry glanced at Ron's stack.

"You only found one book?"

"Well, one at a time you know," Ron said lazily, then broke of in a groan. Harry turned around and smiled at the sight of Hermione buried under a stack of books nearly as tall as she was.

"Here Ron," she said, handing him the top half after she set it down. "You forgot a few."

"Thanks Hermione," Ron said, fighting to sound thankful while Harry battled laugher.

After half an hour of research and note taking, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione kept glancing at each other when they thought that the other one wasn't looking. Harry smiled to himself, then turned to Hermione. "Maybe you and Ron should take a break. You've both gotten a lot done." Ron shot a hopeful glance at his girlfriend. She hesitated for a moment, then, oddly, glanced back over her shoulder and then looked at Harry before smiling a knowing smile.

"Yeah, you're right. Come on Ron, let's... rest." Looking like a little boy on Christmas, Ron bounced happily after his girlfriend out of the library. Harry doubted they even made it past the first nook they came to. He turned back to his books, determined to get as much done as possible, when he was aware of someone else sitting down next to him.

--------------------

Draco, bored and lonely, meandered in the direction of the library shortly after dinner. He had hoped to spend some time with Harry tonight, but Hermione was making him work on the DADA project. He told himself he wasn't going down to the library to see Harry—he had his own DADA project to work on, after all. Which explains why he never even glanced at the card catalog as he passed it. He spotted his boyfriend right away, and he headed towards the opposite end of the library so that he could come around from behind the bookshelves without Harry seeing him. He finally picked himself a spot where he had a good view of the stunning raven-haired boy, and pretended to study the titles on the spines of the books. He tried to duck out of sight when Granger passed by him but, despite the ridiculous number of books in her arms, Draco could have almost sworn that she'd sent him an amused look.

He decided he might as well get started on his thing if he was going to be in the library anyway, so he walked over and tapped his wand on the big filing cabinet. He caught the cards one by one, and used a copying spell to transfer the information from the cards to a piece of parchment. His hand was on automatic—his brain still fantasizing about green eyes and lightning-shaped scars—and it wasn't until two cards later that he noticed that one of the entries couldn't possibly be right. How the _hell _had he gotten a hold of that one? Though he might want to take a look at that book sometime. It sounded _fascinating_.

Refusing to allow himself to blush, he erased the entry quickly and finished up. He took a look at the shelve positions of his books and tried to figure out which one would be closest to Harry. _Screw that_, he thought as he realized that every single one of his books were located on shelves that were nowhere near Harry's table. He went back to where he had been standing before. He thought he saw Granger glance back at him, and he hurriedly grabbed a book, opened it, and skimmed his finger down a non-existent index page with a look of serious concentration. His silver-gray eyes followed Granger's bushy hair as she left the library, her freckle-faced boyfriend close behind. His heart started beating faster. Harry was alone...

He had just re-shelved his random book and turned back to Harry's table when he noticed that Harry had company. _Well, that didn't last long_, he grumbled to himself. Seated next to him was a very pretty girl with curly black hair. He couldn't tell which House she was from—he couldn't see her crest from here—but he didn't think she was a Gryffindor and he _knew_ she wasn't Slytherin. He crept closer, trying to hear their conversation.

"Hey, Harry," she said in a musical voice, looking very nervous.

Harry looked at her for a second before saying "Um... hi."

"DoyouthinkyouwouldmaybegotoHogsmeadewithmethenexttimeDumbledoreletsusgo?"

"Um... what was that?" Harry asked, but Draco, fists clenching, had understood her perfectly.

She took a deep breath, and then repeated "Do you think you would maybe want to go to Hogsmeade with me? I think we're having another Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks."

"Oh," Harry said, stunned and blushing deeply. "Look, I really appreciate you asking; no one has ever asked me on a date before. It's just that... I can't. I'm sorry."

Draco knew it was killing him not to give her the real reason. His heart had clenched when Harry had admitted that no one had ever asked him out and, dammit, he was right. Some boyfriend Draco was turning out to boy.

"Oh," the girl said softly, pretty blue eyes filling with tears. "No, it's okay. See you later." And then she was gone. Draco watched his sensitive, empathetic boyfriend bury his face in his hands. He knew he was feeling like shit for hurting the girl. He could only watch for a minute before he flew to Harry's side and threw his arms around his shoulders, making him nearly leap out of his chair.

"Draco!" he gasped, glancing around to see who might have noticed. Fortunately, it was nearly curfew, so the library had cleared out. He twisted around to see his boyfriend's face, then frowned. "Draco? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"I want to tell. I want to tell everyone. I want to yell out that yes, Harry Potter is my boyfriend and I'm the luckiest guy on Earth."

Harry was stunned. "Wow." He opened his mouth to say something else, floundered for a minute, then just repeated, "Wow." He seemed to get a hold of himself then, at least enough to say, "That touches me deeply. But what made you change your mind?"

"Well, first, I have to keep away from you, and you know what? That really sucks. I couldn't unglue my eyes from you the entire time we ate breakfast. And then you had to go and _kiss_ me. That really didn't help the whole not-thinking-about-you thing. Second, I nearly flew into a very unseemly rage when I saw that girl flirting with you. And then I would have lost what little dignity I have left, and that would make me grumpy. And last, I could see that you really, really wanted to tell her the truth—tell her that you were taken—so that you wouldn't hurt her. But you didn't. For me."

"Are you sure, Draco?"

"I'm positive," the blond said firmly. Harry beamed at him.

"Awesome. But we have to come up with a really interesting way to come out of the closet."

"I think we can manage."


	8. Reactions

Chapter Eight: Reactions

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning grinning widely to himself. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks behind his back as they descended the stairs; they knew that something up but they weren't sure what. Harry plunked himself down in his usual spot and grabbed a pumpkin muffin off of a nearby platter. He had just raised the muffin to his lips when a voice behind him caused him to freeze.

"POTTER!"

The entire Hall fell silent after an excited murmur. The older students had been very disappointed at the lack of action between their two favorite arch-rivals this year. Everyone leaned closer, watching with baited breath for the fight they knew was soon to come. Harry put down his muffin, but didn't turn around.

"What do _you_ want, Malfoy?" he asked, his voice dripping with Slytherin-like scorn.

"How _dare _you?" the blond spat. Harry raised an eyebrow and finally slid off the bench and sauntered over to where Draco was standing. Nearby students thought his eyes were darkened by blood lust, and were awed by it. Draco alone knew that it was indeed lust, but of a rather different sort.

"How dare I what, Ferret-boy?" Harry asked with a smirk. The gasp of the crowd was audible. Now they_ knew _they'd get to see some interesting hexes. Draco growled low in his throat.

"You know what I want, Potter."  
"I might. What makes you think I'm going to give it to you?"

"You better, Potter. I'm warning you." Draco took a step closer.

"Ohh, I'm scared. You gonna make me, pretty boy? I'd like to see you try."

Draco stepped closer again, his nose brushing Harry's. The feel of Harry's breath on his skin almost distracted him, but he forced himself to remain focused. They had a spectacle to cause here. "Watch me," he growled, soft but still loud enough for the silent Hall to hear. He leaned forward that last inch and his lips connected with Harry's.

Chaos broke out as half of the student body, who had been leaning as far off the benches as they could in order to catch the low conversation, fell off their seats onto the hard wooden floor. The only ones safe from this were the ones who had been seated on the opposite benches, and thus leaning over the table during the argument. Even then a few of them slid off, fell backwards, or whacked their heads on the table or into their plates. A certain tight-lipped Deputy Headmistress, who had been half out of her chair in preparation of preventing blood from spilling, picked herself hastily off the floor and shot a glower at Dumbledore, who attempted to hide a grin as she stuffily brushed nonexistent dust off her robes. After a moment of shock, the other students recovered themselves enough to start shouting questions, but by then the objects of curiosity had disappeared.

"That," Harry announced, sprawling himself across Draco's bed, holding his aching sides as he gasped for breath, "was the funniest thing I've ever seen. Did you see McGonagall?"

"That was the best part," Draco said, grinning at his boyfriend. "I've never seen her look so... what's the opposite of composed? Decomposed?" Harry snorted and Draco smiled and continued. "Dumbledore didn't seem to surprised though."

"Does Dumbledore ever seem surprised at anything?" Harry pointed out.

"True."

"Snape didn't seem to shocked either," Harry mused, looking at his boyfriend. Draco shrugged.

"Well, he and I are pretty close. He knew that I had a crush on you. He'd never show it if his life depended on it, but I bet he's even pleased that you return my affections."

Harry snorted again. "Yeah, right."

"Well, we've got to go down to Potions in a few minutes. Ready to face the shocked masses again?"

"Sure. With you I feel able to face anything," Harry said, half-jokingly.

"Oh, now _that's_ not corny," Draco joked back, but he felt a silly smile spread across his lips as he followed Harry out the door.

Harry and Draco slipped into the Potions classroom only minutes before class began. Harry felt all eyes on him and his boyfriend as the grabbed the table in the back and started to set up their cauldrons. Neither of them looked up when Snape swooped in.

"Potter. Malfoy." They paused in their pre-class preparation at the sound of his voice. "Because of that... exhibition... in the Great Hall this morning, I feel obligated to warn you that any displays of public affection will result in a deduction of fifty house points from Gryffindor." Harry looked finally look up.

"Only from Gryffindor, sir?" he asked carefully. Snape sneered.

"Yes, Potter, only from Gryffindor." He cast a threatening eye over the other Gryffindors in the class, who had begun grumbling.

"Oh, sure," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Draco as Snape began giving instructions. "He's thrilled." Draco just shrugged and shushed is boyfriend, trying to hear what Snape was saying. The two boys managed to not display affection—at least not overtly—but a glance here or there and an 'accidental' brush of fingertips every now and then proved to the observant class that the affection was definitely there. They waited impatiently for double Potions to be over so they could bombard the new couple with questions about how in Merlin's name they had ended up romantically invovled instead of murdering each other. Yet again, the two boys managed to escape right after the bell, leaving their frustrated classmates to turn upon Ron and Hermione for answers.

Hermione and Ron caught up with Harry waiting outside the DADA classroom. Hermione ran her hand through her mussed, bushy hair, and gave Harry an irritated look. "You're going to have to face them sometime, Harry," she pointed out, quickly checking her reflection in the polished suit of armor next to the door. Ron smiled and grabbed her hand to prevent her from messing with her hair anymore.

"You look beautiful," he assured her, making Hermione blush deep red and Harry smile. It was so good to see his best friends being honest about their feelings.

"Wotcher, Harry!" a voice called, and Harry turned to smile at scarlet-haired Tonks. She gave him a grin and held up her hand for a high-five. Harry high-fived her, ignoring Ron's confused look, leaving Hermione to explain the Muggle gesture to him. "That was great, this morning! The most excitement I've seen yet! And I _never_ thought I'd see that look on McGonagall's face. Priceless, that was. _Especially_ when she fell out of her chair. I've never laughed so hard in my life!"

"So you don't mind that I'm dating Malfoy?"  
"Why should I care who you date? It's your life. As long as he knows that if he ever hurts you that I, as a DADA teacher, know plenty of interesting curses to inflict upon his lovely blond self."

"Careful, Tonks. You don't want me to think you're after my boyfriend, do you?"  
"Harry, love, _my _boyfriend is so much more interesting than yours. I'm mean, come on. Yours doesn't turn furry and howl at the moon once a month. How boring." They both laughed as they took their places in the classroom.

Despite the initial shock, it didn't take long for Draco and Harry to become old news. After a few days Harry was more worried about his DADA project than he was anything else. As he sat in the library wrapping up the final details in his Parvulus project he watched his fellow students frantically flipping through pages and thanked Merlin that Hermione had driven him to start early.

The next day Harry entered double DADA with butterflies in his stomach. He _hated_ speaking in front of the class. As soon as he sat down, Tonks bounced in and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Harry!" she said gleefully, clearly excited to see what her students came up with for their projects. Harry gave her a feeble smile in return. "Oh, just to warn you, I'd like you to go last. Your second presentation will cause quite a stir, so it'll be a good closer." Harry nodded, but was inwardly groaning. He had hoped to be one of the first to go so that he could get it over with. The other students started to wander in, all looking nervous and exhausted from a hard night of last-minute research. Except for Hermione, of course.

Harry watched, half-asleep, as his fellow classmates went through dozens of different spells and wizards. Harry sat up when Hermione and Ron presented, but more out of respect for them than any actual interest. Finally, it was his turn. He stood up and walked to the front of the classroom on wobbly knees.

"I researched the Parvulus Curse," he announced, glad his voice didn't sound to squeaky. He tapped his wand on Tonks pedestal, and a large holographic diagram of a human head appeared. The outer skull was was transparent, allowing the audience to see the details of the brain through it. "Now, the effect of this curse is that the victim is forced to regress mentally to a childlike state. The spell permeates the brain and locks off every memory older than five years old; sometimes younger." He prodded his hologram with his wand and a yellow glow soaked into the folds of the brain, saturating all except a small portion. "This makes them completely helpless and at the mercy of the caster. The only known cure is the spell _adultus_, but it requires a very strong will on the part of the victim—something that is often lost due to the regression, so it is rarely successful." He paused, then asked, "Any questions?" A bored silence filled the room.

"Thank you, Harry," Tonks said, scribbling on a piece of parchment. There was a smattering of half-hearted applause as Harry vanished the hologram and gathered his notes. He glanced at Tonks, who finished what she was writing and smiled.

"All right, Harry. When you're ready," she said. Harry noticed some odd looks from his classmates, and began to feel self-conscious. _Why did I agree to this? _he asked himself. Tonks, too, noticed the looks, and explained "Harry has agreed to do two presentations. This next one is important so pay attention, you lazy layabouts." Harry cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. He waved his wand and the hologram of a young man appeared, just a little taller than Harry. Harry looked at the man for a moment, remembering strongly the last time that he'd seem him in this form. He looked exactly as he had the night he had pulled Harry into his diary to show him a lie about Hagrid.

"This," Harry said in a new, strong, clear, determined voice, "is Tom Riddle. Has anyone else—besides Ron and Hermione—ever heard of him?" No one raised their hands. With another wave of his wand, the words Tom Marvolo Riddle appeared in large black letters, hovering in midair. He poked them and watched them rearrange, now recalling the night Riddle had revealed his true identity to Harry. He heard the class gasp as the letters settled into their new order.

"Yes, Riddle is also Voldemort." The entire class flinched. "This is an image of him at the age of seventeen. He was a student here at Hogwarts many years ago. It was he who opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time, and then blamed it on Rubeus Hagrid, who was also in school at that time. Riddle was born of a Muggle father and a witch mother. His mother died giving birth to him and his father deserted them, so he was raised in a Muggle orphanage until he entered Hogwarts. He changed his name to Voldemort while still in school, but only his friends knew this false identity. After graduating, Riddle began the first of his many murders with his uncle, and then his father and grandparents. He killed and searched for power and immortality for years until he finally disappeared. And, as we now know, he as reappeared. Any questions this time?" Hands went up. Harry felt for a moment like Binns must have when Hermione asked questions about the Chamber of Secrets and incited the interest of the class. "Mr. Finnegan?

"Why did he disappear?" Seamus asked, fixing Harry with an uncharacteristically serious stare. Harry met his stare evenly.

"He tried to kill me after my mother sacrificed herself for me. There is powerful magic in a gift such as that. It's not because I'm different from anyone else," he finished firmly. The bell rang, saving him from answering any more questions.

"Class dismissed," Tonks called over the bustle of people gathering their stuff. "Terrific projects, everyone." Harry caught her approving glance as he left. He felt oddly drained, but relieved to have that over with.

Weeks went by. It was well into October and many of the students had begun getting excited about Halloween. Harry and Draco spent their evenings curled up by the fire in Draco's room while working on homework. At least until the last of their willpower disintegrated and they ended up making out, wrapped up in each others arms until well after curfew.

Harry was groggily eating breakfast in the Great Hall after one such late evening when a certain female redhead came bouncing in.

"Morning, Harry!" Ginny chirped, slipping into the empty space next to Neville and snatching the last chocolate doughnut off the silver platter on the table.

Harry glanced at her blearily. "How the _hell_ are you always so chipper in the morning?" he demanded. Ginny shrugged cheerfully and took a huge, unladylike chomp out of her doughnut.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, dropping her donut on the table and—after a warning look at Neville—stuffing her hand into the pocket of her robes. After a moment of searching she dragged out a rather rumpled piece of parchment. "Here, Harry, I was supposed to give this to you." Harry unfolded the parchment, tried to smooth it out a bit, and glanced over it.

"How do you keep getting these, anyway?" he asked. She shrugged again.

"Demelza gave it to me, and said Justin Flinch-Fletchley gave it to her, who said Ernie McMillan gave it to him..."

"Okay, okay. I get it," Harry said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "You'd think someone like Dumbledore would have a better method of getting a hold of people."

"You'd think," she agreed, then froze. "Hey! Where's my doughnut? _Neville_!" she cried.

"Hey!" Neville protested, wrinkling his nose. "I didn't touch your gross, slobbered-on doughnut, thank you very much."

The older Weasley, who was standing behind Neville and Ginny, winked at Harry while licking chocolate crumbs off his fingers. Harry couldn't suppress his smile and Ginny, catching it, spun around.

"Ron!" she shrieked, flinging herself on her brother and bringing them both crashing to the floor.

"Merlin, woman," Ron gasped, laughing and struggling to get out from underneath her. "It was just a doughnut." He hauled himself to his feet and brushed off his clothes.

"It was my breakfast," she pouted.

"Here," he said, scooping an apple out of the fruit basket and tossing it to his sister. "You need to be watching your girlish figure anyway."

"Are you calling me _fat_, Ronald Weasley?" she asked, her voice lowering threateningly.

Taking advantage of the chaos Harry slipped silently away, laughing to himself. It was time to see what Dumbledore wanted. Again.


	9. The Truth About Fawkes

Chapter Nine: The Truth about Fawkes

"Hello again, Harry," Dumbledore said once Harry was seated in his usual chair. "How have you been?"

"I'm good, sir. And you?"

"Oh, good, good." The office door opened again and McGonagall walked in, eyes fixed on the stack of parchment in her hands.

"Good morning, Albus, Fawkes," McGonagall greeted them, then raising her head and seeing them for the first time, she paused before adding, "Potter." She handed the stack of parchment to Dumbledore. "The post has come. You might find a few of those interesting," she said grimly. "Several of them are from the parents of the students who were involved in the attack on Malfoy."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Thank you, Minerva," he said, and she nodded at him before leaving. "Now, where were we?" Dumbledore asked Harry, purposefully shoving the letters to the side. He would deal with them later. "Oh, yes. Professor Tonks told me about your bonus presentation a couple of weeks ago." Unsure of where Dumbledore was going with this, Harry simply nodded. "I am glad that you agreed to do it. It is good for the others to hear about what Riddle was like before he became Voldemort, and for them to realize that he is just a human."

"Sort of."

"Yes, sort of. Tonks also mentioned that it seemed therapeutic for you to discuss Riddle with your classmates. Do you agree?"

Harry hesitated. "I don't know. I guess so. I did feel like I'd... purged... some emotional unpleasantness by talking about it."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am sorry, Harry. I should have realized earlier that you would need to discuss your feelings. I am glad that you finally got a chance to. How is it going between you and Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry smiled. "It's going good. I really like being with him." He paused and bit his lip before blurting out something that had been bothering him. "Professor Dumbledore, how do I know if Draco is the one in the prophecy?" Dumbledore steepled his fingers and studied Harry for a long moment.

"Do you love him?" he finally asked. Harry threw is hands in the air in exasperation. He'd been asking himself the same thing for weeks.

"I don't know! How am I supposed to know if I love him or not? I know I've never felt this way about anyone else, but does that make it love? And even if it is love, how do I know I'm in love with the right person?"

"Harry, do you remember me telling you how the prophecy could have been referring to Mr. Longbottom?" Harry nodded. "You asked me then how you could know for sure that the prophecy meant you. Do you remember what I told you?"

"That Voldemort made it refer to me when he marked me."

"Correct. It works the same way with Mr. Malfoy. If you fall in love with him, you make him the person referred to in the prophecy." Harry pulled his legs up in the chair and wrapped his arm around his knees.

"What if I don't want the Prophecy to mean him? I'd be putting him in danger by making him such an integral part of my possible victory. What if he gets killed because of me?"

"It is very hard to love in a time of war," Dumbledore said softly, his blue gaze focusing on Fawkes' scarlet feathers across the room. "And it is possible that something will happen that will make it impossible for you to be together." He closed his eyes for a second, fighting against a wave of painful memories. His eyes were normal again when he opened them, but Harry wasn't fooled. "That is what is hardest about being a hero. You sometimes must sacrifice what you love the most for the good of everyone else."

"That's not fair. I didn't askfor any of this. I don't want fame or glory."

"You see, that is what makes a true hero, Harry. True heroes never volunteer; they simply do what they have to do. And it does not always end up happily ever after."

"Like you and Fawkes?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"That's what happened to you and Fawkes, wasn't it? Because you fought against him, and because he was afraid of you, Voldemort took out his anger on the one you loved instead."

"Why would you think that?" Dumbledore asked, trying to seem calm.

"The way you always look at Fawkes whenever you have to tell me something difficult. The way he's always on your shoulder when you're feeling sad. You haven't looked away from him once the entire time we were talking about love and loss. And the fact that McGonagall addressed him like he was human tipped me off too. And the times that I've interacted with him, he's always seemed very human. I think I started suspecting that there was more to Fawkes than met the eye when he helped me defeat the basilisk during my second year." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, truly stunned. Fawkes let out a musical trill that sounded like a laugh and landed lightly on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore's gaze turned inward and Harry suspected that he and Fawkes were conversing somehow.

"You are truly an amazing person, Harry," he finally said. Harry smiled shyly.

"So, will you tell me about it?" he asked tentatively. Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment, and Harry was afraid he was going to say no. Then, after a heavy sigh, Dumbledore began his story.

"Fawkes Finley and I have been best friends almost all of our lives. We were raised together, we went to Hogwarts together, and we both were sorted into the Gryffindor House. His younger cousin Minerva McGonagall," he smiled at Harry's raised eyebrows, "followed us everywhere and—after we gave up on trying to push her away—we became inseparable, much like you, Mr. Weasely, and Miss Granger. One day we were wrestling late at night in the common room over who had won our last chess match and we... ended up kissing." He smiled softly, remembering. "It is funny how one kiss can change so much. I do not know how Minerva felt at first about our relationship, but she seemed to accept it in time. She was very good about knowing when we wanted to be left alone. We graduated and went separate directions, but we still managed to remain close. I knew I wished to be a teacher, so I stayed on at Hogwarts assisting Professor Dantura, who I eventually succeeded. Fawkes, on the other hand, traveled with theater companies, singing and dancing and acting. We owled each other often, and I Apparated to Fawkes' apartment as much as possible and tried to see every single one of his shows. We were determined to live the rest of our lives together." Dumbledore closed his eyes again and Fawkes trilled softly and nuzzled his head against Dumbledore's chin. "The same year that I proposed to Fawkes, Riddle rose to power. I was overconfident. I assumed that the power difference between Riddle and me was enough that I could overtly oppose him without worrying about what he could do to me in return. Unfortunately, he knew that this was true, as well, so he looked for other weaknesses—and found one. My relationship with Fawkes was not a public one, but when Voldemort wishes to know something, it is only a matter of time. I do not know whom he tortured or terrorized to get this information, and I do not want to, but somehow he found out that I had a lover. On the opening night of one of Fawkes' biggest roles—Mercutio in Shakespear's _Romeo and Juliet—_I had to regretfully owl him and tell him that I could not come. Later that evening I decided to clear my schedule and go and surprise him. I Apparated at the theater just in time to see Voldemort use the Killing Curse on him." Another painful pause. "You would not believe the anguish I felt. I unconsciously reached out with my magic as I felt my partner's soul slip out of his body." He stroked the phoenix's head softly. "And this was the result. He still died, but his death was no longer permanent. We have searched long and hard trying to find a counterspell that would return him to human form but, honestly, I am simply happy to have him still with me at all." Fawkes closed his black eyes and nuzzled his partner again. The room fell silent again. "Harry," Dumbledore said suddenly, "if you do decide that you love Mr. Malfoy, I think it would be best if you told him about the prophecy—his role as well as yours." Harry nodded. He had already reached the same conclusion. "And, whatever you do, enjoy the time you have with him, and try not to worry too much about the future—no matter how hard that may seem."

Harry nodded again. "Thank you sir, Fawkes." Dumbledore smiled as both man and bird nodded back at the boy.

"Take care, Harry."

Dumbledore watched the office door swing shut behind his favorite student. "Well, what do you make of all this, Fawkes?"

_"I think Harry is wise beyond his years. In all this time no one else has ever figured out that I am more than just a bird." _ Dumbledore winced slightly as he heard the slightly bitter edge in Fawkes' voice._ "I don't know what the future holds for him and his partner, but I pray that it will be happier than ours. Not that I'm not glad I'm still alive in some sense," _he reassured Dumbledore in a softer tone. _"I just sometimes get tired of having feathers instead of skin. Especially when I still want you so much._" Tears caught in Dumbledore's eyes and he let out a shaky breath.

"I know, my love. Me, too. Me, too." They stayed that way for a long moment, Fawkes' bright, wide-spread wing cupping the back on Dumbledore's silver hair, Dumbledore's face buried in his scarlet breast. As they sat there, they both worried about the young boy they had grown so fond of and hoped that somehow, no matter how much the odds may be tipped against it, that all would go well.


	10. Telling Draco

Chapter Ten: Telling Draco

Harry was curled up in one of the green chairs in Draco's room, struggling to get through his Potions homework without being distracted by the boy in the opposite chair. His brow furrowed as he tried to force his sluggish, uncooperative brain to remember what the ingredients for a Dreamless Sleep Potion were. It wasn't working.

"Aargh!"

Draco raised a slim blond eyebrow at him. "Are you all right over there?"

"No," Harry said petulantly, frowning at the textbook in his lap. Draco smiled slightly and, going over to his boyfriend, leaned over Harry's shoulder to see what he was working on.

"What are you having trouble with?" he asked.

"Keeping my mind off you," he replied truthfully. Both brows shot up this time and Draco smiled a smile that was shy and sly at the same time—Harry loved that smile.

"Really?" Draco asked softly. Harry loved that Draco trusted him enough to show his vulnerable side. Draco's softer side was what he found the most arousing. With a wicked grin, Harry reached out, wrapped his arms around Draco's slim waist, and pulled the smaller boy into his lap. Draco yelped in surprise, then made himself comfortable in the warm nest of Harry's body. "I don't think this is helping," he commented.

"Nope," Harry said, satisfied. Well—mostly satisfied. He turned Draco's face toward his and pressed his lips firmly against those of his boyfriend. That was better. Draco made a contented noise and opened his mouth to allow Harry's tongue to have entrance. Draco reached up and gently removed Harry's glasses and tossed them into the empty chair. Warm silver eyes smiled into intense green ones before their lips met again. Harry's fingers skillfully tugged Draco's shirt out of his pants, and slid his cool hands up Draco's warm, smooth back. Draco shivered and, without thinking, burrowed deeper into Harry's lap. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he moaned quietly. He felt Draco's mouth curve into a smile against his lips and before Harry knew what was happening, Draco had swung his body so that he was now straddling Harry's lap, his legs threaded through the gaps in the arms of the chair. Draco moved against him again and this time, with Draco's hardness pressing so intimately against his own, Harry clenched his fingers in the material Draco's blue shirt as his head went back in a groan of one who is truly suffering. He only had so much willpower, and Draco had nearly reached the end of it.

"Draco," he gasped when he felt his boyfriend shift his body to move again, "you better stop that. Now."

"Aww. How come?"

"Because I refuse to be responsible for my actions if you continue."

"Really, now?" Draco said in the most horribly mischievous voice Harry had ever heard. Harry gave him a look and the blond pouted. "You're no fun."

"You have no idea just how fun I can be," Harry promised him in a deep, seductive voice, and Draco perked up again. Deciding he had to get himself out of this very vulnerable position, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's back and stood up. After a puzzled look, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's back and Harry walked him towards the bed and dumped his boyfriend unceremoniously onto the green-and-silver comforter. Draco flipped his blond hair out of his face and gave Harry a mock-glare. Harry only grinned. He liked seeing Draco look ruffled. He had already figured out that the weirdest things about Draco turned him on. Like buttons. He ran his fingers up the front of Draco's shirt, playing with the small ivory buttons.

"You wore a button-down shirt tonight just to get to me, didn't you?"

Draco grinned. "Now, why would I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Because," Harry whispered as his fingers found the top button, "you know that when you wear buttons I can't seem to keep from imagining myself undoing each and every one... very...slowly," he said, drawing the last two words as he "fumbled" with the top button. Finally it slipped out of its loop and Harry went to the next one. Every second that went by Draco's heart beat harder in anticipation. He decided he liked that Harry liked buttons.

After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, Harry finally pushed the shirt off Draco's shoulders—while still carefully avoiding touching his skin—and Draco shrugged out of it, letting it fall onto the bed. His entire being screamed for Harry to touch him—anywhere. Harry let it drag out for a few more seconds, then ran his fingers lightly up Draco's pale chest. Draco shivered violently and Harry's smile turned even more feral. Draco decided enough was enough and he grabbed Harry's shirt with both hands and yanked it over his head. Once Harry was shirtless as well he rolled over and pinned him to the bed, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against Harry's. Harry, feeling more than a little out of control, reached above his head to grab Draco's headboard and, in the process, knocked Draco's shirt behind the bed. Draco frowned at him.

"You better pick that up or it'll wrinkle. It's silk," he said. Harry gave him a look that clearly said _You have got to be kidding me. _ "Hey," he said defensively, "it's not like I can just go out and buy another one if you wrinkle it beyond repair. Since my father cut off my allowance, I have to be careful with what I've got."

"That's what _magic_ is for, Draco," Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes, but he pushed Draco off and obediently turned over onto his stomach to attempt to stuff his arm down in the narrow space between Draco's headboard and the wall.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked, most of his attention on the task at hand. He could _almost_ reach the shirt. His fingertips were brushing against the fabric.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" he replied, still only half listening. He snatched at the shirt one last time, and managed to snag it. Then Draco brushed his fingers along the small of his back, and that would get Harry's attention at _any_ time. He levered himself up on one elbow, bringing the shirt with him, and twisted around to look at Draco. It took a moment before he realized what Draco was asking about. "Oh, it's a phoenix," he said when Draco touched his back again.

"Well, I see that, Smart One," Draco said impatiently, "but why is it on your back?"

"It's a tattoo." Before Draco could ask, Harry explained. "It's a Muggle custom where they use needles and ink to poke a permanent picture into your skin."

Draco looked at him, shocked. "Are you serious?" Harry smiled and nodded. "I knew Muggles were barbaric, but my god. You used a anesthetic spell or something, right?"

Harry shook his head this time. "No. I decided that if I did it, I'd do it the Muggle way. So no magic." He paused, then added, "Well, I had to use magic to get in the door—you have to be eighteen to get a tattoo." He grinned. "Thankfully tattoo parlors don't have Age Lines."

"You're crazy. Why would you want to do something like that?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt like it. Maybe it was a rebellious thing. I had no trouble choosing a design, though. I knew right away what I wanted, so I owled Ginny. She's an amazing artist, if you didn't know. I explained what I wanted and she sent that picture back to me. It was perfect. I took it with me and showed it the tattoo artist and she did a great job. I love it."

"Why did you want a phoenix?"

"The phoenix symbolizes hope for me. When I was in the Chamber of Secrets at the end of our second year the situation was looking pretty hopeless. It was just me and the basilisk, and honestly, the enormous snake with the turn-you-to-stone eyes had a bit of an advantage. But just when all seemed lost Fawkes appeared and gave me the Sorting Hat, which in turn gave me Gryffindor's sword. I managed to kill it with the sword, but it ended up poisoning me before it died. Once again, it seemed like I was doomed but, thankfully, Fawkes saved the day again by healing my wound. Because of that, the phoenix reminds me that there is always hope, even in the darkest times."

"Wow. Who is Fawkes?"

"Dumbledore's phoenix."

"Ah, I should have guessed that. I've been in his office enough that I should have learned that bloody bird's name by now. Whenever I tried to give Dumbledore grief when he was lecturing me, the bird would glare at me like I was making it angry be insulting Dumbledore. It was creepy." Harry said nothing. "I can't believe that you and I have been dating for at least a month now, and I have never known that you have a giant picture of a phoenix and a sun across your back."

"I guess you've never seen me shirtless from the back before." Harry's smile turned sly. "You seem more preoccupied with the front most of the time."

Draco laughed. "You're probably right." He eyed Harry, noticing that he had become quiet all of a sudden. "What's up?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh, nothing."

Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I know you better than that by now," he said quietly.

Harry sighed. "That's the problem," he muttered, almost too quiet to hear. He sat up and leaned back against the cool wood of the headboard and studied Draco for a moment, biting his bottom lip slightly. Draco waited tensely. He didn't want to rush him, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Harry wanted to tell him.

Finally, before he could lose his nerve, Harry blurted, "There's something you should know about me."

Draco relaxed a little, figuring that any dark secret that the Golden Boy might have would be better than what had been afraid he was going to hear.

After a short hesitation, Harry continued, refusing to meet Draco's concerned eyes. "A relationship with me should probably come with an insurance waver," he said, trying to make a joke out of it. Draco stayed silent, but Harry wasn't sure whether it was because he didn't find it funny, or because he had no idea what insurance was in the first place. "It could be... dangerous... being my boyfriend. In fact, I'm definitely sure it will be dangerous."

"Why do you say that?" Draco asked, confused. Harry gave him a Look. "Are you referring to You-Know-Who?" Harry's silence was Draco's conformation. "So what if you possibly could have been the reason for his disappearance? That was sixteen years ago. And yes, you might have caused problems for him here and there, but obviously not enough to prevent him from rising to power again. Dumbledore's caused him more grief over the years and_ he's_ still alive. Hell, I betrayed You-Know-Who and got five of his junior Death Eaters sent to Azkaban. That's nearly his entire Hogwarts battalion! I'm probably much higher on his hit list than you are."

Harry shook his head. "There's more to it than that. I'm going to have to fight him eventually. He's afraid of me, which puts anyone I care about in jeopardy," he said, thinking about what happened to Fawkes.

Draco simply snorted. "You-Know-Who's afraid of you? No offense Harry, but that sounds rather pretentious to me. You're a good wizard and all, but why in hell would the Dark Lord fear a seventeen-year-old boy?"

Harry turned away again and whispered, "Because of the prophecy."

_That_ got Draco's attention. "What? You mean, the other year at the Ministry you actually_ found_ a prophesy?"

"Yes, but it broke before I could read it."

"Then how—" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"Dumbledore knew the Prophesy all along. He was there when it was made. It says that I have the power to kill Voldemort, but that one of us will die. It could be him... or it could be me." Silence fell as Draco sat, stunned.

"Really?" he finally whispered. Harry nodded. "My God, Harry. How the hell can they ask that of you?"

Harry shrugged. "I've asked the same thing myself and never gotten an answer. They all seem to expect me to be able to do the impossible." The old anger and hurt rose to the surface again and he rested his forehead on his bent knees, trying to hide his emotions.

"Oh, baby," Draco murmured quietly, seeing the inner conflict in his boyfriend. "I wish that I could help somehow."

Harry raised his head fractionally. "You already are," he whispered hoarsely.

Draco gave him a puzzled look. "How?"

"There was one last line to the prophecy. It said that in order to win, I must love someone. I don't know if Voldemort knows this part of it or not—_I_ didn't know about it until just this year—but if he does, you're in a lot of danger."

Draco sat, stunned again. "Harry, did you just say that you loved me?"

Harry blushed crimson. "Sort of. I guess. Yes."

"Wow," was all Draco said before falling silent, emotions swirling.

"You did hear the part where you'll be in danger, right?  
"Yes, I heard," Draco said quietly. "Though I'm probably in so much trouble with You-Know-Who already, it doesn't make much of a difference. He'll want me dead either way."

"I guess, but if you get killed while being my boyfriend, I'll never forgive myself," he said, then shocked them both by bursting into tears.

"Shh," Draco whispered, trying to comfort him. "It's all right, Harry. We'll figure something out." He murmured incoherent reassurances until he felt Harry's tense muscles relax and his breathing even. He moved the covers, gently laid Harry down, and tucked him into his bed.

What the hell was he going to do?


	11. Draco's Dilemma

Chapter Eleven: Draco's Dilemma

Draco sat watching Harry sleep and attempted to process all the new information Harry had dumped on him. You don't find out every day that your boyfriend is fated to fight against the scariest bastard known to mankind. He tried to evaluate what he was feeling. He suspected he was still in shock. He felt angry—not with Harry, but with the world for dropping their burden onto a seventeen-year-old's shoulders. But most of all he was afraid. Afraid that he would lose Harry. Scared that he cared for someone who had a future as uncertain as his own.

And Harry loved him. Draco closed his eyes at the strong emotions that accompanied that thought. But, as Harry said, that put Draco in a lot of danger. He had worked very hard the last couple of years to keep himself alive. Was he really willing to put himself at such risk for the sake of a Gryffindor who had despised him for six years? He was a Malfoy; Malfoys thought about themselves first, right? Everything he had been taught his entire life went against continuing this relationship.

With a heavy sigh Draco reached out gentle fingers and tenderly brushed Harry's bangs out of his face, unintentionally revealing his lightning-shaped scar. Harry's hair had grown so long and shaggy it usually hid the famous mark. This physical reminder of Harry's dangerous life made Draco sigh again, feeling a worried tug at his heart. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the marred skin, then buried his face in his hands. What the hell was he going to do, dammit? He cared about Harry—hell, maybe he even loved him—but this situation sucked all around. How could two people build a strong relationship knowing it was unlikely for either of them to live long enough to turn thirty? Could they really enjoy the time they had without always worrying whether tomorrow would come or not?

Draco's thoughts continued on this pessimistic path until, exhausted, he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

He hadn't been asleep for long when something pulled him abruptly awake. He listened, trying to figure out what had woken him, and heard a small whimper. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Harry, who was lying on his side, facing Draco. Looking closer in the dim light, Draco saw that he was still asleep, his hands clenched and silent tears pouring down his face. A nightmare. Draco's hopelessness about the future was instantly replaced with a new, even more potent despair at the knowledge that his boyfriend was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it. Draco pressed tightly against him, trying to mold every inch of his body to Harry's in hopes of comforting him. He buried his face in the bend of Harry's neck and their tears mingled. Harry had told Draco about his nightmares. They came every night and no matter what happened—whether he was reliving his parents' death or dreaming about Voldemort—they all ended the same way: Harry alone in the darkness, crying.

He knew at that moment that no matter what the consequences were, he couldn't just leave Harry alone. All of Harry's life had been filled with aloneness. When his parents were murdered, he had been left alone. He had been alone and friendless when he was growing up. He had made friends at Hogwarts, but almost every year he had been called upon to save the world again—and he always ended up facing the monster alone. He was alone when he faced Quirrel, when he defeated the basilisk, when he stood trying to keep dementors from giving his godfather the Kiss, when he had seen Voldemort regain his power.

Draco's childhood hadn't been so different. He hadn't felt loved as a boy; the only true friend he had ever had was Pansy. And now Harry.

Their pasts had been as messed up as their futures probably would be. Didn't it make more sense to ally himself with Harry then? Only Harry understood what loneliness was like. What it was like to be singled out, to be different, to have others' expectations pressed upon you.

As his tears poured down Harry's neck in a hot stream, he didn't even notice that the minute he had wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, Harry's tears had stopped. Emerald eyes blinked open and focused on the pale form huddled against him.

"Draco?" he whispered hoarsely. "What's wrong?"

Draco sniffed, not even bothering to be embarrassed about Harry catching him crying. It was Harry, after all. "I love you, too, Harry."

Harry laughed in joy and surprise and hugged Draco tightly against him. "Really? And is that why you're crying?"

"Yes, really. And I guess it's sort of why I'm crying. I just didn't like to see you so sad."

Harry looked confused. "What?" Draco reached up and touched Harry's cheek. Harry mimicked the gesture and grimaced when he felt tears drying there. "Oh, that. That's nothing to worry about."

"But I do worry about it. I love you," he repeated, surprised that the words came so easily from his mouth. He had never told anyone else he loved them before. It was a moment before he realized that he had probably been the first person to hear those words from Harry's mouth, too.

Harry hugged him again and kissed him softly on the top of the head. "You have no idea how wonderful it makes me feel to hear you say that."

"That's not nearly as wonderful as I _can_ make you feel," he said with a rakish smile.

"_Really_, now?" Harry asked, feeling his skin heating up already. Draco's mouth met his passionately and Harry felt a vast amount of emotion wash over him.

Draco's tongue ravaged Harry's mouth and he put everything he had into that kiss. All his fears, his doubts, his lust, and his love poured over them both and he vowed that with that kiss they would put all of the negative feelings behind them and focus on making each day incredible.

Besides, someone smart had once said, "Love conquers all."

They would put it to the test.


	12. Sex and Intuition

Chapter Twelve: Sex and Intuition

Time passed and Harry was starting to become sick and tired of the feeling that he was holding his breath. What was Voldemort waiting for? The longer that he allowed Harry to continue with his schooling unhindered, the stronger Harry would be when he faced him. It made no sense. Dumbledore, too, he noticed, was on edge. Why hadn't he struck yet?

On the other hand, it gave Harry more time to get to know his boyfriend. At this point he had more of his stuff in Draco's dormitory than he did in his own. He pretty much lived there now. He and Draco slept together every night, but they still had not yet taken that last step. They were both still virgins—as far as Harry knew, anyway.

Harry spent much of his free time memorizing as many defensive and offensive spells as he could. Hermione, Draco, and Ron often helped him. Well, Ron came along and shouted insults and encouragements from the sidelines, but Draco and Hermione helped. Harry was as ready as he ever could be.

He spent a lot of time thinking about the sex thing, too. He wanted desperately to bring it up with Draco, but kept chickening out. He wasn't sure where he himself stood on the subject. He would love to have sex with Draco, and who knew how much longer he had to do it? But he didn't want to simply do it because he didn't want to die a virgin. It was complicated.

One night, as they both cuddled together in a chair in front of the fire, Harry decided he would stop putting it off.

"Hey, Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you think about sex?"

Harry couldn't have shocked his boyfriend more if he'd tried. Draco gasped in surprise and ended up having a choking fit. Harry patted him on the back and looked at him with a half-amused, half-embarrassed half-smile while he waited for him to recover himself.

"Um... what?"

"Sex. What do you think about it?"

"I'm a seventeen-year-old male. Could you be a bit more specific?"

Harry sighed and blushed and attempted to explain himself. Draco listened silently. When Harry finished, trailing off in embarrassment, Draco smiled gently.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said. "I've been thinking about the same thing myself."

"Really? What conclusions have you come to? I've only succeeded in confusing myself."

"That's about as far as I've gotten as well," Draco admitted.

"A lot of help you are," Harry teased.

"Well, look at it this way. You love me, right?"

"Right."

"And I love you. There is no risk of either of us getting pregnant—unfortunately—and, since we are both virgins there is no risk of STD's. We have magic to prevent all of that anyway. So, why not? I am of the opinion that we should live life to the fullest for as long as we have it. It would be sort of a victory for You-Know-Who to separate us before we'd experienced that bliss."

"Draco, if Voldemort separates us, it will be a victory for him anyway."  
"So? It would be more of a victory if he prevented us from ever making love."

Harry laughed. "You sweet-talker. So does that mean you want to?"

"Yeah. If you feel that you're ready, of course."

Harry paused. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I think I'm ready. Are you?"

"Always," Draco said, suddenly soft and serious. He leaned closer and their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Their desire had been building higher and higher all these months that they had been together. Now that they had unleashed it, it took all the willpower they had not to let it take over. Harry got Draco's shirt off and his long fingers danced along his belt. As he began to undo the latch their eyes met, knowing that they were moving into uncharted territory.

They moved painfully slowly, Harry removing Draco's slacks first, then Draco depriving Harry of his jeans. Finally, the stood before each other in only their boxers, both of them aching to discard that last obstacle.

"Ready?" Draco whispered hoarsely.

"Yes!" It was almost a moan.

They made short work of their boxers, and they stood for a moment, each awestruck by the beauty of the one before them. As the sexual tension built, Harry broke first. He leaped upon Draco, pinning him to the bed, moaning and shuddering as his naked shaft rubbed against that of his boyfriend.

All shyness was replaced by frantic desire, and it wasn't long before twin screams of pleasure echoed off the stone walls of Draco's room.

As they lay together afterwards, both drifting off to sleep, Draco had enough clarity of mind to think _Thank god I remembered to put that silencing charm on..._

"G'morning handsome," was the first thing Draco heard when his eyes fluttered open the next day. He focused enough to see his boyfriend stretched _very_ naked across his bed, emerald eyes dark with mischievous lust as they surveyed Draco's much-exposed pale skin.

"Hi," Draco replied sleepily, running his hand through his hair. He paused mid-gesture as he realized that that was _Harry's_ trademark gesture. He never ran his hand through his hair. Damn, Harry must be rubbing off on him. All such thoughts were banished as Harry stretched, showing off his sexy form. "Damn, you look good," Draco said fervidly. "I wish we didn't have to go to classes today. I would love to stay in bed with you all day..."

Harry gave him a saucy wink and slid cat-like from the bed. "I doubt I would mind staying in bed with you... all naked and warm... and then I could take you again and again until you were utterly exhausted... and then we'd sleep... and I'd start all over again," he said, with another wink at Draco's shocked face. "But, unfortunately, love, we have classes to attend."

Draco closed his eyes and groaned. This was so wrong. Here they were, Harry alert and eager to go to class—and _Potions_ class at that—and he could barely get out of bed. "How come you're such a morning person all of a sudden?"

"Well, I've heard it said that great sex can work better than coffee."

"Oh, it was _great_ was it?" Draco asked with a cocky grin.

"Yes... but we wouldn't want you to get a big _head_, now would we?" Harry asked with a wink. It took Draco a moment to get Harry's alternate meaning, but when he did he groaned again.

"Ugh, you've got such a dirty mind." A pair of clean slacks landed on his head.

"Come on, get dressed. We wouldn't want to be late for breakfast!" Harry chirped.

"Ugh."

"Good morning, all!" Harry practically sang as he joined his friends in the Great Hall. His fellow Gryffindors stared at him.

"Now who's chipper in the morning?" Ginny asked with a giggle as Harry began piling food on his plate. He was _ravenous_ this morning.

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "It's the _morning_, for God's sake. What's _wrong_ with you?"

Seamus grinned widely. "I bet I know! I bet Harry got laid last night."

Silence fell as every stared at Harry.

"_Please_ tell me that's not true_," _Ron said, looking a bit green.

Harry blushed, but continued grinning. "I don't kiss and tell!"

Ginny gave a triumphant shriek. "Oh my god, he did!"

The others began bombarding him with questions but Harry ignored them all as he wolfed down his massive breakfast.

"Time for class!" he said, picking up his bag and leaving his friends complaining bitterly behind him.

Harry's cheerful mood lasted until DADA where, in the middle of class, Harry froze, hand to his scar. Tonks gave him a worried look—which deepened to even greater concern as Harry got up and left her classroom without a backwards look.

Heart pounding frantically, Harry ran all the way to Dumbledore's office. He didn't bother waiting for a response after a quick knock. "Professor Dumbledore..." he gasped as he threw open the door.

"I know," Dumbledore replied grimly from where he was sitting behind his desk, Fawkes on his shoulder and a pained look on his face. "I felt it, as well."

"It's going to be soon, isn't it?" Harry asked, feeling his stomach drop to his toes as Dumbledore nodded solemnly. After all his complaining about wishing Voldemort would hurry up and make his move, he instantly wished he could go back to waiting. "When?"

"There is no way to know for sure, Harry. It would probably be best for you to go back to class. You have Defense Against the Dark Arts now, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Warn Professor Tonks for me, please, and keep on your guard. I do not think he will keep us waiting long now."

Harry returned to class with a heavy heart. The bell rang soon after he got there, and Tonks pulled him aside.

"What was that about, Harry?" she asked. "Are you all right?"  
"Yeah," Harry said woodenly. "I'm fine. Dumbledore and I think that Voldemort," he ignored her involuntary wince, "is going to strike soon. We both got a... feeling."

Tonks looked the most serious he had ever seen her. "Thank you for the warning, Harry. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a small smile. "Can you write a pass for my next class?"

"What? Oh right, sorry. I guess I've made you late by now. Just a sec." She scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, and he left, desperately wanting to find Draco.

That evening Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Draco all sat with Harry in the Gryffindor common room by the fire. McGonagall, proving that she did indeed have a heart, allowed Draco entrance "in Potter's time of need." They huddled close together, Harry on Draco's lap, and everyone jumped at small noises.

"It might not be tonight," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said restlessly. "It's just that... I don't know, it's hard to explain. I just think it will be." She nodded, and they went back to their silent vigil.

A little past midnight Professor McGonagall came in again. Harry tensed, afraid that she was going to tell them that they had to go back to their separate dorms. He would completely go insane if he had to sit in the dark by himself without his friends to hang on to.

Instead she said, "The Headmaster says that you and your friends can spend the night in his office if you wish to remain together."

Harry nodded his thanks and he and his friends stood up wearily and ducked out from behind the portrait. They had just started going down the staircase when a deafening boom echoed through the castle. Hermione, jolting with surprise, lost her footing and slipped. Thankfully Ron was able to catch her arms and haul her up, roughly but efficiently, so she was standing steadily again.

"Thanks," she whispered, rubbing her arm. "What was that?"

Harry didn't bother answering. Instead, he took off down the staircase as fast as he could without falling face first, and heard the others rushing after him. He ran down seven flights of stairs, then stopped so short at the bottom of the second-to-last one that Draco bumped into him.

He peered cautiously over the railing and saw that the main doors had been reduced to splinters. In the rubble covering the Entrance Hall stood nine figures dressed in black with hideous skull masks.

The Death Eaters were in Hogwarts.


	13. Fighting the Enemy

Chapter Thirteen: Fighting the Enemy

Dumbledore was already there, facing them calmly, alone except for the fiery bird on his shoulder.

"You are trespassing," he told them, as if they were everyday delinquents.

A cold laugh that sounded a lot like a certain older Malfoy rang through the hall. Through the mask, Harry noticed that the cold silver eyes were looking straight at him and cursed under his breath. Malfoy knew they were here.

Like lightning, Malfoy raised his wand and a bolt of green light flashed towards the spot where Harry and his friends huddled.

Harry's first instinct was to throw himself upon Draco, which caused them both to lose their balance. The two boys tumbled down the rest of the stairs and landed in a tangled heap at the bottom. Harry quickly extracted himself and crouched, wand at the ready. He needn't of bothered; Malfoy's eyes were all for his son.

"Draco," he sneered. Harry couldn't see his expression, but he could practically hear his lip curl. "What a _pleasant _surprise. What are you doing with Potter, boy? I knew you had betrayed your true, pureblood, friends, but this is a low I would never have expected you to drop to. However, you seem to be good at disappointing me lately."

Draco's expression never changed, but Harry knew him too well to think for a moment that he didn't care. He was angry, sad, and hurt. Harry's grip tightened on his wand and emerald eyes flashed. This was starting to get personal.

"Where's your master, anyway?" Harry asked, keeping a calm mask over his anger—a trick he had learned from a certain blond Slytherin. By now, the other Gryffindors had recovered enough from their shock to come forward. Harry felt them at his back, but they were still hidden by the railing and he was fairly sure the Death Eaters hadn't seen them yet.

"My master has more important things to concern himself with than you," Malfoy said haughtily.

"You mean he's _afraid_ to fight us."

"My master fears no one, Potter. _Us_? Are you so high and mighty now, Potter, that you refer to yourself in the plural?" Harry remained silent and Lucius' pale eyes shifted to Draco with a dry laugh. "Why would my son help you, Potter? He will betray you when you least expect it, trust me. He cares for no one except himself."

Beside him, Harry could feel Draco taking every word like a physical blow. "That just goes to show that you don't know your son very well, _Mr_. Malfoy."

"And you think you know him so much better?"

"Yes, I do," Harry said matter-of-factly. As soon as he said it, Harry felt Lucius' mercurial temper make the abrupt shift from amused to furious and discretely cast a shield charm upon himself.

"How dare you accuse me of not knowing my own son!" He spat, firing a glowing red spell at Harry. The shield absorbed it before it could cause any harm—although it was strong enough to cause the shield to disintegrate—but that didn't stop the three different spells that blasted from behind Harry. The other Gryffindors stood in full view, wands raised, faces angry.

"I see you brought your entire posse with you Potter. How characteristically cowardly of you," Lucius said in a bored voice.

Another spell was fired. By Neville Longbottom.

And all hell broke lose.

The man Neville hit went down on his knees, but whatever spell Neville used didn't last for long. He was up again in moments.

By then the rest of the Death Eaters had cast miscellaneous curses that were blocked and returned by the Hogwarts students. Harry had taught them well during DA. Out of the corner of his eye, as he attempted to stay out of the crossfire, Harry noticed that the only ones not fighting were the two Malfoys. Lucius had removed his skull mask and he and his son stood there staring at each other in a silent contest of wills.

"Daddy," Draco whimpered suddenly, shocking Harry, who then almost got hit by a sickly yellow curse.

"Yes, my son. My boy." Lucius replied cajolingly. " Come with me. You belong with me."

Draco cast a frightened look at Harry that tore at his heart. He had never seen Draco look so lost, so scared, so... innocent. Hermione grabbed his arm and he spun around.

"You know what's going on!" she told him quickly, keeping half and eye out for incoming curses.

"I do?" That was news to him.

"It's the Parvulus curse, Harry! You know how to fight it better than any of us!"

Oh, right. Thank Merlin for Hermione and her clear head.

"Yes, Daddy." Draco's childlike voice penetrated through Harry's fear-clouded thoughts.

"No, wait!" he said, grabbing Draco's shoulder as he tried to leave with his father. Big silver eyes stared back at him. "_Adultus_!" he said with a quick swipe of his wand. Draco continued to stare at him and Lucius started pulling on his arm.

"Let's go, son."

Damn! Why wouldn't Harry's brain work? What else was he supposed to do? Draco turned and started following his father again, but Harry grabbed his hand and threaded his fingers through Draco's. "Remember all the times we'd walk through the halls like this, laughing at all the looks we got from everyone?" He asked, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of Draco's hand, trying desperately to pull him back to the present. "Remember the first time we caught Snape smiling at us when we were acting affectionate in class? He took fifteen points from both of us; he was so mad that I had seen that he had a heart. Remember the time Filch caught us making out behind that statue on the fourth floor? The sight of two boys kissing appalled him so much that he was too busy making puffer-fish faces to remember to give us detention." He ignored the shocked and disgusted looks he was getting from Lucius and focused instead on Draco's eyes. He could almost swear he could see him struggling in those silvery depths.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Potter?" Lucius demanded.  
Still ignoring Draco's bastard of a father, Harry continued. "Remember how you used to hold me after I had a nightmare, let me talk through it until I fell back asleep again? Did you notice that after sleeping with you for a week, I stopped having nightmares? You're my boyfriend, Draco. My partner. I _need _you. You protect me from the demons that haunted my dreams."

Draco faltered and Harry held his breath.

Lucius, catching on quickly, jumped in. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. You are my son, my only heir. What would I do without you?"

_Die and go to hell, _Harry thought, but he figured saying it out loud might alienate the child part of Draco's mind.

"Draco," he whispered, unsure of what else to try.

"He's my daddy," Draco said simply. "I should always do what my daddy says. Right?" He looked confident until the last word, then looked a little lost again.

"Of course, Draco. That's my boy."

Harry felt anger bubbling up inside of him, scalding and explosive. That bastard was offering Draco the acceptance that the child in him had always craved, but never received—and it was all a lie. As soon as he got Draco to do what he wanted, he would go back to the cold, disdainful man he had always been.

"Draco, you don't always have to do what your daddy tells you," he said softly. "You should do what you feel is right here," he said, putting his hand on Draco's chest, over his heart, "and here," he said, moving his hand to Draco's head. "Right now, try to think for yourself. You know me better than anyone else. I try to always be there for you; I need you to stay here with me. I love you, Draco," he said solemnly, staring into the other boy's eyes. "With all my heart, I swear."

Draco's eyes changed. They were darker, wiser, angrier. Harry gulped, hoping that intense glare was not meant for him. After a moment, Draco gave him a sad half-smile and winked, and Harry breathed easier. Realizing that Draco didn't want his father to know that he was back to normal, Harry continued.

"Draco, please..." he whispered, trying to look properly sad and hopeless when he was really dancing for joy inside. It must have worked because Lucius smirked and started talking to Draco again in that sickening, condescending voice.

"Come with your daddy, Draco. I'll keep you safe from all the bad people."

Something in Draco seemed to snap. Without sparing a thought for his wand, Draco swung around and punched Lucius in the face. Hard.

"You _are_ the bad people," Draco informed him.

Lucius went sprawling on the floor, but nobody else seemed to notice. He sat up, wincing and holding his nose, which was spurting blood all over the place.

"You broke my nose, you little bastard!" Lucius screeched. "My own son!"

"I was never your son," Draco said coldly. "Not the son you wanted me to be, anyway." Instinctively, Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's waist from behind and Draco leaned back into Harry's comforting warmth.

"Well, that's true enough, anyway," Lucius said derisively, eying the couple with disgust. "So you two really are queer lovers, aren't you? How appalling. I'm sure my master is going to be very interested by this... development. Then he broke into an insane grin, the blood that was still running down his face making him look even more demented. "Then again, since I'm planning on killing you, it won't really matter anyway."

"You would really kill your own son?" Harry asked quietly.

"You heard the boy—even he claims he isn't my son. And you pointed out that I don't know him at all, which seems to be accurate. So it would be like killing a stranger, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Harry stared at the patriarch of the Malfoy family, deeply disturbed by the way his mind worked. Draco and Lucius began exchanging curses and Harry took the opportunity to step away and check up on his little army.

He spotted Hermione over on the other side of the hall with two Death Eaters at her mercy. Not only did she have an extensive arsenal of memorized spells, she had the speed to shoot them off one after another. Ron wasn't far away from her, but was having a bit more trouble keeping up with his. Ginny was a bit behind Harry, using the railing of the staircase as an extra shield as she fought a close battle against the two Death Eaters that had cornered her. Dumbledore was, of course, having no trouble with the remaining two. Neville had gone down early on, and Harry wanted desperately to get to him, to make sure he was still alive.

Harry hit one of Ginny's Death Eaters with a Stupefy spell from behind. He didn't see it coming, so wasn't able to shield. Ginny flashed him a relieved grin, grateful that she only had to worry about one now. Her remaining Death Eater made the mistake of turning to see where the Stupefy spell had come from, and Ginny got him when he wasn't looking.

"Check Neville!" he yelled to her, and she nodded and dashed over to where Neville was sprawled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron fall, and, after hitting his Death Eater with a curse, started to run over to check on his best mate. He turned first, quickly, to see how Draco was faring against Lucius. The moment he moved his head he was blinded by a flare of green light. Harry blinked frantically, green stars dancing in front of his eyes. As soon as they cleared, he sought out his boyfriend, and his heart stopped.

Draco was lying sprawled limply on the floor, his father standing over him and laughing.

And then the world exploded.

Friend and foe alike went to their knees and covered their heads, trying to protect themselves from the eruption of unfettered magic pouring from the raven-haired boy who knelt in the middle of the floor, holding his head in his hands.

Bits of rubble changed form. Pebbles became Hagrid-sized boulders. Chunks of wood and marble became cats and umbrellas, articles of clothing, and glittering jewels. Splinters morphed into purple goo that oozed around the knees of the prone figures in the Hall.

The wild magic was a physical wind, which mutated every non-living thing that it touched. The debris changed and changed again, until what was once a quill became a boot, which then became bread pudding. Everything was moving, glowing, distorting, and over it all was a high, desperate keening.

Slowly things began to calm down as Harry exhausted his power. There were still skunks and socks all over the place, but they didn't become anything else. The wind died down and the glow faded, but the keening continued.

It took a moment for the disoriented students to realize that the sound was coming from Harry himself. After exchanging looks, Ginny went around Stupefying any Death Eater who looked like they were even thinking about moving—which wasn't many—and Hermione went to Harry.

She knelt beside him, her arm around his shoulders.

"Harry," she said quietly. There was no reaction and the frantic wailing continued. "Harry," she said a bit more firmly. "Harry!" She smacked him sharply upside the head, and he became abruptly silent. "Harry, listen to me. We need you to get up. You didn't do anything wrong, Harry. It wasn't your fault—are you listening to me?" It was pretty clear he wasn't. "Harry, go check Neville and Ron. Now." He didn't move. "Harry, you're being selfish. Professor Dumbledore is unconscious—probably thanks to the magical tantrum you just threw—and you have the best healing capabilities of any of us students. If either of them is still alive, and you choose not to go and help them, and one of them ends up dying later, _that_ will be your fault. So go. Now. You will never forgive yourself for it later if you don't." Hermione knew she was being cruel, but at last Harry got up and walked numbly over to Neville. She gave him a few minutes, then asked, "So?"

"I think he might have been thrown against the wall by whatever hit him before he fell to the floor, so he might have a concussion or other broken bones. Thankfully, though, he wasn't hit by anything deadly. He should be fine, for the moment, but he needs to see Pomfrey soon." He then went to check on Ron. He was silent for a long minute then, biting his lip, he said, "I think he might have been hit by something more serious. His breathing is irregular."

"I will take care of it, Harry," a kind voice said quietly. It appeared that Dumbledore had regained consciousness, though he was rubbing the back of is head carefully.

"No, I will take care of it, thank you very much, Headmaster," another voice said, sniffing disdainfully. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, Professors Snape and McGonagall close behind. Harry saw the faces of students peering sleepily over the railings on higher flights of stairs, trying to figure out what was happening. The three staff members conjured three floating stretchers and levitated Neville, Ron, and Draco onto each of them. Harry had to turn away from the sight of his boyfriend being lifted bonelessly into the air and fought back hot tears that he refused to let escape. He vowed that after this, the ultimate sorrow, he would never cry again.

"You three," Pomfrey said sharply, pulling Harry out of his thoughts, "will come with me as well. For Merlin's sake, the lot of you probably hold the school record for most visits to my infirmary."

"Wait," Dumbledore said slowly. "Where's Fawkes?" He scanned the air frantically before turning hopelessly to the piles of rubble, odds and ends, and critters wandering confusedly around the hall. "Fawkes?" he called desperately. _No, he can't leave me_, he thought, his famous composure dissolving. _Not like this. Not after all this time. _

In the back corner of the hall there was a mountain of broken marble from a shattered pillar. A few of the pieces on top shifted and everyone held their breath.

Logic told Dumbledore that it was probably one of the many miscellaneous creatures that had once been stone or wood, but he rushed forward to help uncover whatever it was. He levitated the heavier boulders, and gasped. "_Fawkes_?"

The Gryffindors stared. The thing underneath the rubble was not a phoenix. In fact, it wasn't even a bird.

It was a man.

He had snow-white hair with streaks of fiery orange and wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and his mouth. He sat up rubbing his head and wincing. "Albus," the man replied in a sweet tenor voice.

"Oh, Merlin, Fawkes!" Dumbledore repeated, tears in his eyes as he dropped to his knees and embraced the smaller man, who winced again.

"Ouch. Easy, Albus, I was just buried under a ton of marble, for goodness sake. He pulled away from Dumbledore and grinned at Harry, dark eyes twinkling. "That was quite a display, young man." Fawkes approached him and grasped Harry's shoulder gratefully. "I could never thank you enough for what you have done for me. For now, we should take care of your friends." Harry said nothing but, despite his aching heart, he couldn't help but be happy for his headmaster and Fawkes.

Harry nodded and everyone, Dumbledore and Fawkes included, headed to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey checked Ron first.

"He has a collapsed lung," she finally announced to the group as she held her hand, which was glowing faintly, over the boy's chest. "After I fix it up he will be fine, but it would be best if he stayed in bed for at least two days, and did not exert himself unnecessarily for a full two weeks.

Neville had a few broken bones—including a vertebra or two. Harry winced in sympathy as she poured him a large goblet of Skele-Gro.

Then she turned to Draco, and Harry turned away. He sat down heavily on an empty bed. The random thought flitted through his head that he sure hoped he wasn't going to be attacked by a dementor any time soon. He would be hard-pressed to think of a happy memory. Though, considering his current numb depression, they probably wouldn't have much affect on him anymore anyway.

Dumbledore came over and sat down next to him, and Harry couldn't help but ask "Well?" He knew there was no way Draco was still alive. He'd seen the green light—the characteristic color of Avada Kadavra—seen Draco's prone body, heard Malfoy's demented laughter.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Harry, look at me." With great effort, Harry raised his head and forced his shell-shocked eyes to meet Dumbledore's kind blue ones. Dumbledore stood up and held out his hand. Confused, but not really caring, Harry took it and Dumbledore led him to Draco's bedside. Harry couldn't bring his eyes to focus on Draco's pale, lifeless face. Something hit his leg—hard. He looked up instinctively and found himself staring into a pair of familiar silver eyes that were giving him a mock-glare.

"Hey, you could show some sympathy, here. I'm in a lot of pain, and you don't even bother with a 'How are you feel—" He was cut off as Harry tackled him.

"Oh my god, _Draco_! How the _bloody hell_ are you still alive?"

"Oh, thanks. I feel so loved now. And hey, I thought I was the one with the foul mouth around here."

"Mr. Malfoy ducked the Killing Curse," Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling in amusement, "but he slipped on the rubble underfoot, causing him to fall and hit his head. He just has a minor concussion, which is much less severe than the injuries sustained by Mr. Weasely and Mr. Longbottom."

Harry stared at his boyfriend. "Is that true?" he asked. Draco nodded ruefully and Harry burst out laughing. "You, the graceful, dignified Draco Malfoy knocked yourself out by falling over?"

"Hey, shut it, you. Don't harass the invalid."

"Invalid, my ass. You big baby. If you _ever_ do something like that again, I swear I'm going to kill you myself, you idiot."

"Good gracious, Potter, I really have been a bad influence on your language," Draco said with a laugh. "So, you were really upset when you thought I was dead, huh?" He said, lowering his voice teasingly.

"I was devastated," Harry replied seriously. "Like I said, don't do that again. Please. I never want to go through an experience like that ever again."

"I'll try not to," Draco said with a laugh. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Draco."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as she came back from her storage room with an armload of medicine. "I must insist that you get off of Mr. Malfoy's chest this instant!"

"See, at least someone has some appreciation for my delicate condition," Draco said, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend.

"Yeah, and you won't think that's such a good think after a week stuck in bed."

"I don't think I would mind being in bed for a week. As long as I had company, anyway..."

"Bloody hell, you two," another voice complained. "Can't you give an injured guy a break?"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, leaping off Draco's bed and rushing see his best mate. Hermione was already there, Ron's large hand enveloping hers and happy tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asked earnestly.

"Fine, until you two started being all cutsie."

"I can't believe you just used the word 'cutsie', Ron," Harry said laughing.

"Shut up."

"Hey, guys," Neville called from his bed. "What happened down there?"

The group looked at each other, then at Dumbledore and Fawkes.

"Not much," they all said simultaneously, then burst out laughing. Harry took pity on the confused boy, and filled him in on what happened.

"Wow," Neville said when he was finished. "I wish I hadn't been knocked out," he said, sounding disgruntled with himself.

"No, trust me. You were the lucky one. You didn't have to be subjected to Harry acting like a complete drama queen," Ginny said with a smirk at her green-eyed friend.

"Hey, that's not fair," Harry protested, but he was drowned out by the laughter of everyone else and ended up smiling along with them.

Their relief at being alive turned into giddiness and they laughed themselves silly until the early hours of the morning. They knew that eventually they would have to face the questions and curiosity of their fellow students but for now, they just relished each other's company.


	14. Getting Things Back to Normal

Chapter Fourteen: Getting Things Back to Normal

After making sure that the students were all in Poppy's very capable hands, Dumbledore and Fawkes went down to see about the Death Eaters.

They were all still sprawled where they had fallen. Dumbledore checked all of their bonds, took a deep breath, and pulled a quill and parchment from the pocket of his robes.

"I guess I might as well get this over with," he said, scribbling a note. "Let's take this to the owlery."

After securing the letter to the leg of a school owl, Dumbledore and Fawkes went to Dumbledore's levitated the unconscious Death Eaters up to his office, reminded forcefully of the episode involving the children of many of these individuals just a few months ago.

"Maybe I should lay low until the Ministry Officials are gone. You're going to have enough questions to deal with as it is," Fawkes murmured quietly.

"I suppose," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh. He didn't want to let Fawkes out of his sight so soon after getting him back, but he knew he was right. There would be too many questions.

Fawkes sensed his partner's reluctance and smiled gently. "It _will_ probably be safest if I wait somewhere else. Your quarters, perhaps?"

Dumbledore smiled back. "All right, if you must. I'll meet you there as soon as possible."

"I'll be waiting," he whispered back as he slipped out the door.

Dumbledore didn't have to wait long before someone pounded on his door. Barely waiting for Dumbledore to say "Come in," Cornelius Fudge burst into the office, hat clenched in his hands, looking white as a sheet and trailing nearly all of the Ministry's Auror department behind him.

"What the bloody h—the Entrance Hall—destroyed! Warded—dozens of wards—how?" the Minister spluttered, making very little sense.

"I do not know, Cornelius. That would be a good thing to ask them," Dumbledore said, waving a hand at the unconscious Death Eaters. Noticing the pile of bodies for the first time, Fudge jumped a foot, looking even paler than before.

"Death Eaters!"

"Well, yes. That _was _what I said in my letter."

"I know, but... it's just that... Are they dead?"

The Aurors went around removing the Death Eaters' masks one by one and checking their vital signs. "They're all alive," Kingsley Shacklebolt rumbled.

Fudge stared at the revealed faces in horror. "Lucius Malfoy... Crabbe... Goyle... but I thought..." The Aurors ignored their Minister's stammering and fastened anti-apparation handcuffs on all of the Death Eaters.

"Ready?" Shacklebolt asked the others.

"Oh, make sure you ask them if they were working under Voldemort's orders or by themselves, please," Dumbledore said suddenly. They nodded to him and all of the Aurors, with the Death Eaters in tow, traveled by floo back to the Ministry, leaving Dumbledore alone with Fudge.

"Of course they were working under You-Know-Who's orders. A question like that is a waste of Veritaserum," Fudge said haughtily.

"Actually, I think that it is more likely that they were working alone in hopes of winning Voldemort's approval. It does not make since that he would send them alone. It would make him look like a coward, and he hates that more than anything else—except for death, of course."

"Hmph," Fudge said, looking unconvinced. "Well, I suppose I better oversee the questioning. Was anyone killed here?"

"No, no one was killed."

"Which students were involved?"

"Who said that any of the students were involved?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

"Come now, Albus," Fudge said, looking irritable. "Can you really expect me to believe that Potter had nothing to do with this?"

"Yes, in fact I can," Dumbledore said calmly, wishing for one extremely irrational moment that he had the comforting weight of a bird on his shoulder.

Fudge looked at him with something close to a sneer. "Fine. We'll talk about this later." Dumbledore said nothing and, after a moment of silence, Fudge turned on his heel and walked out.

It took only one full day of Draco being coddled by Madam Pomfrey for him to start going completely insane.

"I told you so," Harry pointed out smugly, sitting comfortably on the foot of Draco's infirmary bed.

"_Please_ can't you do something? Look, I'm close to begging. My dignity is beginning to leak out my ears."

"I thought you wanted to be treated like an invalid."

"I did, foolish, whiny boy that I was. But that was twenty-four hours ago. Now I'm much wiser and more mature. I have seen the error of my ways. _Please_."

Unable to hold it in anymore, Harry burst out laughing. "I suppose I could do _something_." He pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and dangled it tantalizingly in front of Draco's nose.

"You little... blast-ended skrewt," Draco said, fishing for an appropriate insult and failing miserably. "You were planning on getting me out of here all along."

"Maybe," Harry said with a sly smile.

"And you still made me beg? That was very cruel of you."

"I know," Harry sighed with fake regret. "I am a terrible boyfriend. I suppose you don't want to go with me after all." He began to stuff the cloak back into his pocket.

Draco grabbed it out of his hands. "That's okay; I have a very charitable nature. See, I forgive you already. Besides, I'm sure you can make it up to me somehow."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Just put the cloak on. I want to get back to your room."

The two boys barely got Draco's door closed before Harry pulled Draco forcibly against him and began kissing him ravenously.

"God, it feels like it's been forever," Draco moaned as Harry pulled his shirt over his head and pushed him onto the bed.

Then, before Draco even saw him lift his wand, silky black ropes suddenly appeared and snaked themselves around Draco's wrists, tying his arms securely above his head.

"What the hell?" Draco yelped, tugging at his bonds.

"Well," Harry said slowly, green eyes sparkling with mischief and lust, "you are technically supposed to be_ bedridden_ still. And I know you. You'll want to be too... active. So this is my way of assuring that you won't be able to flail around at all."

"Oh, god," Draco said breathily as Harry licked a hot trail up his chest. He arched into his touch and felt the slippery tug of the ropes. "Oh, god." Harry's fingers found the button of Draco's trousers and slowly pulled down the zipper. Draco lifted his hips to speed the process up, but once his pants and his boxers were off, Harry still only looked and didn't touch. Draco arched his hips to him in a silent appeal before whispering in a strangled voice, "Please. Oh, please."

Harry grinned evilly and ran his fingertips lightly along the inside of Draco's thigh, enjoying the sound of his quickened breathing. Then he leaned over and licked hungrily along the same path, taking care not to touch anything else.

After what seemed like forever to Draco, Harry decided to take pity on him. He sat up, then leaned over again and slid his hot mouth over Draco's hard, painfully aroused cock. Draco yelled out as Harry took the entire length of him in his mouth, then pulled slowly back, before sucking greedily on the tip. Then he went all the way down again, until his lips grazed Draco's base, making sure that he was good and wet. Then he used his hands as well as his mouth, his palms caressing the thick bottom half while his tongue flickered over Draco's head.

Draco's panting, whimpering, and moaning grew more and more hoarse, until he exploded, repeating a mantra of "Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh god." Harry's lips curved as he felt Draco's heat flow into him, until Draco sagged, completely spent. Swallowing and licking his lips, Harry slid his wand out of his pocket, and with a wave Draco was released. Harry stretched himself out next to his boneless boyfriend and wrapped his arms around Draco's back, enjoying the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Oh, god," Draco whispered again as he began to regain some mental coherence.

"Is that all you can say?" Harry teased.

Draco seemed to consider the question. "Yeah. I think that about covers it," he finally admitted. Harry grinned, pleased with himself, and snuggled deeper into Draco. The blond turned and gave him an arrogant look. "You do realize that as soon as I regain the ability to move, I'm going to get you back for that, right?"

"I was counting on it."

Several sweaty hours later, Harry brushed Draco's pale hair off his forehead and sighed. "I should probably return you to the infirmary before Pomfrey throws a fit," he said reluctantly, smiling as Draco pouted appealingly. Playfully nipping at his boyfriend's stuck-out bottom lip, Harry got shakily to his feet and began tugging on his clothes.

"Do I _have_ to?" Draco whined.

"Yes," Harry said firmly, tossing Draco's boxers at him, where they landed with magnificent precision on Draco's head. "That's a good look for you," Harry told him, laughing. Draco sniffed haughtily and removed the offending article of clothing.

"I should probably take a shower first," he said, looking down at his sweaty, sticky body. "I can't really go back to Pomfrey looking like this."

"Hmm. Me too," Harry admitted.

"You know," Draco mused, a dangerous glint in his silver eyes, "it will take an awfully long time for both of us to take separate showers. Maybe there is a way we can... expedite... the process."

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned roguishly, all his resolve melting away. "Like showering together?"

"That's exactly what I had in mind."

Several wet, steamy hours later, Harry and Draco were finally dressed and decent. Well, somewhat decent.

"Hey, on the way to the infirmary, I want to show you the Entrance Hall. You haven't seen it since that night, have you?" Harry said, grabbing Draco's hand.

When Harry led him into the Entrance Hall, Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Someone could walk in and never know that an epic battle took place there. It looked exactly as it had a week ago—except for one thing. On one of the central pillars supporting the high roof was a bronze plaque decorated by an engraving of a phoenix with widespread wings. Draco looked questioningly at Harry.

"Dumbledore has been telling everyone that Fawkes was killed in the fight," he explained. "The students all think that it is a sad memorial. Only our little group knows that it commemorates a miracle." Draco, who had met the real Fawkes soon after waking up in the infirmary, nodded his understanding. "I'm not sure what Dumbledore did with the skunks and squirrels and such," Harry added, half to himself.

"The what?" Draco asked, looking at Harry as if he was concerned for his mental stability. Harry flushed. He had left most of that part out.

"Never mind."

"What skunks?" Draco persisted.

Harry sighed and glowered. "When I was—in the words of Hermione—throwing a magical temper-tantrum... strange things happened."

"Oh." Draco wisely decided to leave it at that.

After returning Draco to his infirmary bed and enduring the enraged lectures of Madam Pomfrey, Harry felt exhausted. They had gotten some good news, though: the nurse was officially releasing Draco tomorrow. Life could go back to somewhat normal.

Letting his weary feet lead him and his thoughts wander, Harry was surprised to find himself back at Draco's dorm. After a second thought, he realized that he didn't want to be anywhere else. Draco's room was more of a home to him now than the Gryffindor dorm. He whispered the password into the woodwork and closed it behind him with a feeling of relief. Turning around to collapse on the huge bed, Harry's only thought was "Now I can get some sleep."

Or not.

There was already someone on the bed. A certain silver-bearded, bespectacled, know-it-all headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry greeted with a nod, too tired to even really feel surprised, and intensely glad that Draco had been persnickety enough to insist on casting cleansing charms on the bed linens before returning to the infirmary.

"Good evening, Harry," the headmaster said cheerfully.

"I don't suppose there's any point in asking you how you knew I'd be sleeping here? _I_ didn't even know I'd be sleeping here until just a second ago."

The old wizard simply smiled at him. "I talked to Mr. Shacklebolt today, Harry."

"Did they learn anything interesting?" Harry asked, his curiosity peaked despite himself.

"Yes. As I suspected, the Death Eaters were working on their own, with no orders from Voldemort."

Harry sensed that this was somehow important, but his brain wasn't functioning quite clearly. "What does that mean for us?" he finally asked, giving up.

"It means that a good majority of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters are now in Azkaban. Also, as Voldemort is most likely furious with them, I doubt there will be any jailbreaks."

"So Voldemort doesn't have any minions to lean on now, huh? Do you think that will cause him to make his move sooner or postpone it until he has more followers?"

"There is no way to be sure, Harry, but my best guess is that he will come soon. This mess has probably embarrassed him a great deal, and he will want both revenge and the chance to prove that he is not as incompetent as his followers."

Harry sighed. "All right. I'll keep my eyes out for trouble."

"Good," Dumbledore said, standing. "Sleep well, Harry."

"You too, sir," Harry said, trying to stifle a yawn.

Dumbledore began to walk past Harry to the door, then paused and rested a weathered hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you," he said suddenly, tears swimming abruptly in his blue eyes.

Harry looked at him, startled. "For what?"

The headmaster shook his head, for once at a loss for words, and Harry understood. He covered Dumbledore's hand with his own and smiled.

"I'm glad you got him back," he told him sincerely.

"Yes," Dumbledore managed to say. "And this time, I plan on keeping him."


	15. Battling Alone

Chapter Fifteen: Battling Alone

_Three days later..._

In a dark, dank dungeon deep beneath Hogwarts castle a raven-haired boy swayed unsteadily, soaked in his own blood, bright green eyes unfocused and glazed with shock, glasses long since shattered.

The words "he's gone" echoed through his head, but his fatigued brain couldn't make sense of them. It didn't know who was gone. It didn't care. All the boy knew was that it was pitch black and he was all alone, so very alone.

His legs finally gave out, and the boy's body plunged uncaring to the floor. As he fell, his numb brain thought it heard someone running across the dungeon, but automatically dismissed it as impossible. He was alone. He was always alone.

The boy's head was a mere few inches from the unforgiving flagstones when strong arms seized him and halted his descent. The boy's weight overbalanced the person to whom the arms belonged, and they both crashed to the floor, the boy cushioned by someone else's body.

The mysterious arms tightened spasmodically around the boy's body and a hoarse, shaky voice whispered "Oh, god. Oh, Harry, love. Oh, god, I'm so sorry." in his ear. Something warm and wet was falling in small droplets onto the boy's face.

_Draco_, something inside him whispered, and all of a sudden Harry's mind snapped back. "Draco!" he said, this time out loud. He tilted his head and looked up into the silvery eyes that were spilling a cascade of tears down both boys' cheeks. If Harry had ever doubted even for a moment that Draco loved him, he would never doubt again. Not when he looked at Harry that way.

Draco hugged Harry to him fiercely, almost violently, and started sobbing in earnest into the taller boy's shoulder. Shocked, Harry wrapped his arms awkwardly around his trembling lover, who was still lying beneath him, and rubbed any bare skin he could find, both of them longing for skin contact of any kind.

"Shh," he murmured into the blond boy's ear. "It's all right, Draco. _I'm_ all right. He's gone; he's really, truly gone, and his most loyal Death Eaters are already in Azkaban. We're safe now. We can live together, just like we always dreamed of, remember? And we don't have to worry about either of us dying so much anymore."

Draco sniffed loudly, not caring for the first time in his life that his hair was a complete wreck from running all through the castle trying to find Harry, and his clothes were dirty from sitting on the floor, and he had snot and tears running down his face. "I was supposed to be here with you, at your side," he said in a voice choked with tears. "I promised you that you wouldn't be alone for this battle. I promised that you would never be alone again, and I failed. I failed. I got here too late. I'm so very sorry, Harry."

"Oh, Draco," Harry whispered. "You got here just in time to save my brains from being splattered all over this moldy floor. You got here just in time to save my sanity from going completely out the window. You got here just when I needed you. Besides," he added, "I don't remember you making any such promise to me."

"I did," Draco affirmed, blushing slightly, "but you were asleep."

Harry felt a smile curving across his bloodstained lips. "That is unbelievably sweet, Draco. What other promises have you made me while I was asleep?"

Draco blushed deeper, but was saved from answering by a shout of alarm from the dungeon door.

"Merlin, Harry, look at you!" Fawkes exclaimed as he and Dumbledore rushed over. "What the hell happened?"

"What do you think happened!" Draco snapped, still upset. He turned blazing silver eyes upon his headmaster. "Aren't you supposed to know every damn thing that happens in this school? Where were _you_ when Harry was in danger?" he demanded. Dumbledore remained silent and Draco could almost swear that he was... _blushing_? It was then that he noticed the states of disarray of both of the older men were in and he groaned. "Never mind."

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked incredibly guilty as he knelt down next to the two boys. "I am so very sorry, Harry."

Harry gave him a weary smile. That sounded familiar. "It's all right, really. I'm fine." The corner of his mouth quirked up a little more into a grin. "Besides, I know how it is."

Dumbledore smiled back a little and raised his wand. "Mr. Malfoy, would you mind releasing Harry so we can get him to the infirmary?"

Reluctantly, Draco loosened his grip. Dumbledore raised his wand, then stopped when Harry clambered painfully to his feet.

"I can walk," he said firmly, reaching out a grime-smudged hand to help his boyfriend stand. Draco gave him a look—Harry was hiding it well, but Draco could tell, as only a lover could, that his voice was tight with pain. Catching Draco's look, Harry shook his head slightly. This was a victory he wanted to walk from on his own two feet, regardless of the pain. Respecting his boyfriend's wishes, Draco slipped his hand into Harry's, though he made sure to lift himself off the floor, and the little group began to ascend the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs to the Great Hall, Draco could tell Harry was having trouble. His breathing was more labored and with each step he took he leaned a little bit more on Draco. Knowing it was important to Harry, Draco tried his best to support him without looking like he was supporting him.

When they reached the even floor of the Entrance Hall, it got a little easier. It was getting late so they didn't run into anyone on the first floor. It wasn't yet past curfew, though, so Draco knew that they would meet up with other students eventually.

They reached the next flight of stairs and Draco swallowed a sigh. His arm wrapped tightly around Harry's waist, Draco helped his lover climb step after step. His eyes accidentally met Dumbledore's and he knew the headmaster knew. Of course. Dumbledore simply gave him a solemn nod and walked close behind Harry, probably hoping to catch him if he slipped.

On the second floor, Draco heard a thud and turned to see a third year gaping at them, dropped book bag at his feet. When, after a moment, the boy grabbed his bag and ran off, Draco knew they were going to have company soon. He wanted to get Harry to the infirmary before a crowd gathered. He knew that if Harry wasn't able to make it on his own it would be harder for him with a large audience to witness what he felt was weakness.

When they got to the stairs that led to the third floor, Draco wasn't sure if _he _was going to make it. Harry was now leaning almost all of his weight on his smaller boyfriend and Draco's muscles were beginning to spasm. He was afraid that if this went on much longer he would _drop_ Harry, and he would never be able to live with himself if Harry survived the final battle only to have Draco kill him by dropping him down a flight of stairs. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for one more staircase when an angel in the form of Hermione Granger appeared around the corner.

"Oh my god. Harry," she whispered. She joined the two boys and wrapped her arm around Harry's back as well, supporting him just beneath Draco's arm, and Harry shifted some of his weight to her as well. She started asking him questions about You-Know-Who to distract him from the fact that she was helping him. Draco shot Hermione a look of intense gratitude behind Harry's back and they both managed to get the Boy Who Lived Once Again to the infirmary on his feet. Draco nearly wept with relief as they lowered him onto an empty bed. Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of her office door and did not look at all surprised to see them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, it's good to see you again," she said calmly as she came to Harry's bedside. "It has been almost exactly a week since any of you have ended up in my infirmary—surely that's a record." She inspected Harry for a moment. "My goodness, you have so much filth on you it is hard to tell what is grime and what is blood or a hex mark. That is most unsanitary. _Scourgify._" Harry was immediately cleaned of the dirt and the muck, though most of his wounds began bleeding again immediately. Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied, however. "Now we're getting somewhere," she told him cheerfully. She disappeared for a few moments, then came back with an armload of bottles. She set them all on Harry's bedside table, grabbed a clean goblet, chose a stout green bottle, and filled the glass full. To Draco's surprise, she handed it to him, not Harry.

"What is it?"

"Rejuvenation Potion, you look as though you need it," she said, already preparing another potion. This one she handed to Harry, who drank it and made a disgusted face. "Dreamless Sleep potion," she told him, right before his eyelids fluttered shut and he sagged back against the pillow. "There, that should fix most of the damage. The poor boy was exhausted. Now, would anyone mind explaining to me what is going on?" she asked as she began working on the seemingly never-ending task of fixing up the Boy Who Lived. Again.

"I'm not sure, I didn't get there until the battle was over," Draco told her, feeling much better thanks to her vile-tasting potion.

"I see. So, am I to take it You-Know-Who has finally been defeated?"

"That's what he said, anyway," Draco answered.

"Thank heavens. Maybe now you all can stay healthy, for once. If I charged you for every time I healed you since you arrived at this school, I would be a very wealthy woman. There," she said as she finished up, leaning back to survey her raven-haired charge. "Now all we can do is wait and let him rest. He should be as good as new in a few days. Luckily for him, he has always recuperated fairly quickly."

"So, now what?" Hermione asked quietly from beside Draco. No one had to ask what she was talking about.

"Now perhaps we finally have a chance at living out the remainder of our lives in peace," Dumbledore said solemnly, his long fingers threaded through Fawkes'.

Hermione reached over and gently touched Harry's face. "I feel as though nearly my entire time here, after I became close to Harry anyway, I only planned as far as the battle with You-Know—Voldemort. Even when Professor McGonagall asked us to think about our profession preferences I didn't take it very seriously because I honestly didn't think I'd make it that far. All my studying, my practicing, my learning has gone towards helping Harry win this battle, and now its over. Voldemort's gone and I never even took part. I know it sounds selfish, but I feel a little—lost—now."

Dumbledore rested his free hand on Hermione's shoulder. "That is perfectly normal. It will be hard for all of us to come to terms with the fact that he is finally dead. As twisted as it may seem, the wizarding population has gotten used to the shadow of Voldemort hanging over them. It is not easy for one to change their way of thinking after so many years."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "I grew up with He-Who-Must-Not--" he stopped, looked at his sleeping boyfriend, swallowed hard, and started over again. "I grew up with... V-voldemort..." the others smiled, knowing Harry would be proud of this: Draco's first step into the new Voldemort-free world, "as an integral part of my life. He was ever-present from the time of my birth to now, and now I have to actually believe that the man that seemed like some sort of evil, vengeful god has actually been killed, and by my boyfriend to boot." He shook his head. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"It will take some time," Fawkes agreed, "but after we've adjusted, just think how wonderful the world will be—especially for you and Harry. You can live without fear, without doubt, without looking behind your shoulder ever two seconds. You can be happy."

"Yes," Draco said softly, running his fingers down the soft skin of Harry's face, across the rough stubble of a day without shaving, and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the scar-shaped mark on his lover's forehead. "We can all be happy."


	16. Nothing But Good Times Ahead

Chapter Sixteen: Nothing But Good Times Ahead

"No!" Harry yelled, shooting upright in bed, shaking violently. "No..." he whispered again in a broken voice. He looked around, not recognizing his surroundings in the dark, and his panic increased.

"Shh, Harry, love. It's alright." a comfortingly familiar voice whispered, and Harry felt his bed shift as someone sat down next to him.

"Draco?" he asked, reaching his hand out, desperately seeking his lover's body. Draco's slim fingers wrapped around his own and Harry relaxed.

"I'm here, Harry. He's gone, remember? He's gone."

Harry slammed his free hand down on the mattress in frustration. "Why is he still in my dreams then?" he demanded, a few silver tears escaping to leave a dark trail down his pillow-creased cheek. Draco reached out and wiped them away.

"I don't know, love," he whispered helplessly. "I really wish I did."

Harry let his head fall back to the pillow, still exhausted. "Stay with me?" he asked quietly.

Draco glanced apprehensively at the closed door of Madam Pomfrey's quarters and made up his mind. "Of course." He wriggled under the covers and wrapped his arms as tightly around Harry's body as he could without hurting him. Once they were settled he buried his face into the hollow of the other boy's shoulder and they both slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---------------------------

Madam Pomfrey ducked around the curtains that separated Harry's bed from the rest of the ward, and nearly dropped the armload of clean linens she was carrying. She studied the sleeping duo for a moment, a small smile playing around her lips.

"Where's a camera when I need one?" she murmured to herself as she pulled the drapes tight and charmed a "Do Not Disturb" sign to stick to the cloth. She would worry about Harry's linens later.

------------------------------

Harry decided that waking up in Draco's arms had to be the most magical thing he had ever felt. He stretched like a cat and was pleased to find that, other than some minor aches and pains, he felt nearly as good as new. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was a little past noon, but what day was it? How long had he been recovering?

He ran callused fingers through Draco's silky blond hair, and was delighted to see gray eyes blinking at him. Draco yawned, and then smiled at Harry.

It was amazing how easily Draco smiled now. At the beginning of their relationship, his true smiles were rare and a little rusty-looking. Now a grin flashed across his lips every time he even thought about Harry. If he wasn't careful, he would get smile lines in the corner of his mouth. That would be most un-Malfoyish.

"Good morning," Draco mumbled sleepily.

"It's actually afternoon," Harry told him. He watched as Draco stretched, turned onto his side, and then froze.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sliding his arms protectively around his boyfriend. Draco didn't answer, but after a quick glance around the room, Harry saw immediately what was the matter.

Seated on the left side of the bed were Dumbledore, Fawkes, and McGonagall, with an ever-busy Madam Pomfrey bustling around the room, all of them smiling.

Fighting a blush, Harry calmly greeted them.

"Hello, Harry!" the Headmaster exclaimed happily, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said truthfully. "Um... why are you all here?"

"We were just checking up on you, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said matter-of-factly, though a faint blush on her cheeks revealed that she, too, thought the boys looked adorable together.

"The other students have already been informed, of course," Dumbledore told him, "but we would like to hold a feast in your honor tonight, if you feel up to it."

Harry's stomach growled at the mention of food, reminding him that he hadn't had anything to eat since the battle, however long ago that was. "I think I feel good enough to go."

"I shall be the judge of that," Madam Pomfrey reminded them as she approached the bed. "Mr. Malfoy, if you please, I need to be able to get to Mr. Potter." Draco slid out of the bed and stood in just his pajama bottoms as Madam Pomfrey checked over Harry. "I'd say you're fine. Just make sure you take it easy the next couple of days and try to avoid life-or-death confrontations, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said with a smile as he got out of bed as well. When nobody moved, he added, "I should probably get dressed now."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, and he, Fawkes, and McGongall left.

Madam Pomfrey, however, lingered long enough to say, "_Mr. Malfoy_," in a warning tone.

"Awww," Draco whined and ducked out through the curtains, shortly followed by a satisfied nurse, and Harry was alone. After a moment, Harry realized that the only clothes he had in here were the bloody, dirty, torn robes he had come here in. He looked around and didn't see them anywhere. Madam Pomfrey had probably burned them. He didn't even want to think about how his old clothes had gotten off of him and how his pajama pants had gotten on. He poked his head out of the curtains and his eyes met a pair of familiar smirking gray ones.

"Looking for something?" Draco asked, holding out a pile of clothes.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, relieved. A light blinked on in Harry's head as he realized that the other teachers had left the infirmary, and he grinned hungrily.

Draco felt a shiver of excitement at Harry's expression, but only raised a cool eyebrow.

"Could you bring them in here for me?" Harry asked innocently.

"I'd love to," Draco said in a seductive murmur. He slipped back into Harry's room and set the clothes on one of the chairs. It hit them then that they were both half-naked, alone, and that they hadn't had sex in way too long. Harry growled deep in his throat and Draco jumped him. Literally.

Draco flung himself on Harry, causing him to lose his balance and half-fall, half-sit on the bed. Draco lips fastened heatedly across Harry's mouth, his hands seeking as much of Harry's bare skin as they could find.

Then, from across the room, they heard someone delicately clearing their throat.

Draco raised his head, looked around, turned a brilliant shade of red, and slid off Harry's lap and onto the floor with a muffled "eep."

Harry was shocked. Draco, the epitome of grace and dignity, had just fallen onto the floor. And said "eep." The apocalypse must surely be coming.

Then he saw her, and blushed even deeper than Draco.

From his position on the floor, Draco stared up at his mother, his bottom jaw hanging open. She stood there with her head held high, her golden locks flowing loose and windblown down her shoulders as she smoothed down the front of her neon green-and-pink suit.

To Draco, she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Well, maybe the second most beautiful, he amended, stealing a glance at his mortified boyfriend.

His father had never allowed her to wear her hair down in public, or to dress in undignified colors. The sight of her rebelling against everything Lucius had felt was important made him prouder than he had ever felt. She was no longer an abused, downtrodden wife.

Draco stood up, as though in a trance, and approached this woman who had tried her best to raise him well, despite the circumstances. He touched his fingers gently to her cheek and noticed that you could now see the creases in the corners of her eyes and the wrinkles across her forehead, as well as a few strands of gray in her hair. Lucius had forbidden her from showing any signs of aging, so she had kept a spell—a sort of glamour—over herself at all times. Now she stood before him: spell-less, happy, and free.

He wrapped his arms around her, smelling the scent that had comforted him since childhood, and tears slipped freely from the corners of his eyes.

She hugged him back for a moment, then stepped away, her eyes taking in her shirtless son and the equally shirtless boy on the bed. She raised an eyebrow at Draco, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I see that you're enjoying your father's imprisonment as much as I am," she said finally. "It too bad he'll never know—I would have loved to see his face."

Draco grimaced. "Oh, he knew. Harry and I... told him...whenever he paid the school a nice little visit." Then he grinned. "The look on his face was pretty funny, now that you mention it."

Harry stood but stayed back by the bed, not wanting to intrude on the Malfoys' little reunion.

Draco looked back and smiled widely at him. "Come on, Harry, I want you to meet my mother." Nervous, Harry came to stand beside him. Draco slid his arm around Harry's waist and gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze. Harry returned the gesture, and smiled when Draco's other arm wrapped around his front, enclosing him in Dracos' warmth as he made his introductions. "Harry, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, this is Harry Potter, my boyfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Harry said, leaning out of Draco's embrace for a moment to shake her hand.

-------------------------------------

Narcissa's pale blue eyes studied him for a moment, the Malfoy mask concealing her emotions as she watched her Draco lean his head against the Potter boy's shoulder with a contented smile on his face. Potter's eyes shifted from returning Narcissa's stare to the top of his boyfriend's head and the look in his eyes was so warm, Nacissa couldn't doubt that Potter shared her son's feelings.

The almost-healed marks and scars across Potter's bare torso reminded her of why she was there in the first place.

Only a few days ago, Bellatrix Lestrange had come to Malfoy Manor, wailing and sobbing about the murder of her Dark Lord. Narcissa hadn't been sure whether to believe her or not: it seemed too good to be true. She had known about her husband's imprisonment of course—the Ministry had informed her of the date of his trial. She hadn't gone. When she got the notification of his life sentence in Azkaban, she had decided not to do anything differently for fear that the Dark Lord would become suspicious about her loyalty. Sure enough, Bella had "visited" the next day, armed with subtle questions about why she hadn't attended the trial and what her opinion of the Dark Lord was.

Then, not long after, Bellatrix had flooed to the Manor in a panic: the Dark Lord was dead and the remaining Death Eaters were being captured one by one.

Still she waited, afraid that it might be a ruse to get her to prove that she felt no love for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

She probably would be waiting still, if Dumbledore hadn't owled her. That letter changed her life.

Hogwarts' headmaster had explained to her everything that had happened, from the Death Eaters' attack on the school to the end of the Dark Lord, assuring her that the rumors were indeed true.

She had immediately packed everything from her past life that she wished to keep—which wasn't much, sold the house, and withdrew all of the money from Lucius' bank account. Then she had bought a cute little house in the middle of a bustling city and flew to see her son and, if her pride didn't stop her, thank Potter for everything he had done.

Now, she had found out that not only is he responsible for the imprisonment of her sadistic husband and the demise of his deranged master, but for the happiness of her lonely son as well.

In her opinion, the boy was heaven-sent.

"So how long have you two been together?" Narcissa asked.

"Since about the first week of school," Draco replied, his smile growing wider.

"And you never told me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I couldn't trust that any letter addressed to you wouldn't end up in Father's hands. You know he had a penchant for opening your mail." Narcissa grimaced. "And if that had happened, he probably would have come to kill us. Though he eventually tried to kill us anyway, so I suppose it wouldn't have mattered."

"If you wouldn't mind, ma'am," Harry said quietly, his free arm pressed against his empty, grumbling stomach. "I would really like to get some food. And a shower."

"Oh, of course, how rude of me," Narcissa said, feeling genuinely sorry. The school's nurse had told her that Potter had just woken up for the first time since the battle, so the boy must be ravenous. And dirty.

But dirty or not, Draco's mother surprised everyone—including herself—by stepping forward and hugging Harry as he attempted to walk past her and leave the room. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "For everything." She stepped away and held him at arm's length, surveying him one more time. "Now, you better not hurt my son, or you will regret it. As the wife of a Death Eater, I know how to do quite a few unpleasant things to you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "_Mother_!" he complained, but she only smiled.

---------------------------

Two days later Harry happily breathed in the fresh air as he and his friends headed towards Hogsmeade for a last trip into town before the school year ended. The year had seemed to go by so quickly to Harry, but yet he felt so much older. He was especially relieved to get away from the castle and the ever-present awe and gratitude—and sometimes fear—that his fellow classmates insisted on displaying towards him since he had rejoined the student body.

Harry was with just Ron and Hermione today. He had told Draco that he didn't feel like he was spending enough time with them anymore—which was true—but the main reason was he had gone to town without him was that he had something he wanted to do that Draco couldn't know about. Not yet.

Hermione was thrilled. She skipped along happily as they headed toward the store, ignoring the fact that her boyfriend was less than excited.

Ron was happy for Harry, but he just couldn't get his mind around the idea. He had been shocked when Harry had taken him aside to tell him his plan.

"Are you sure?" he had asked, concerned. "Hermione and I have been together just as long, and I feel nowhere close to ready for something like that."

"I'm sure," Harry had told him firmly. "This is what I want."

Once his errand was complete, Harry's nervousness doubled. As soon as it grew dark he sent Hedwig to Draco's room with a note. Draco had a small window high on his wall, right above the ground, which was just big enough for her to fit through.

Then he went up to the Astronomy tower to wait.

It didn't take long for him to hear quiet footsteps coming up the stairs. Soon Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway, smiling quizzically at Harry.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, sitting in the windowsill next to his boyfriend.

Harry ignored the question. "Aren't the stars gorgeous tonight?" he asked softly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, then looked at the sky. "Yes, they are. Though they couldn't hope to compare to you," he said. Harry could just barely see his rakish smile in the dark.

"This is where I was headed that night when you found me. The night that started all of this."

"Really?" Draco asked, trying to figure out where their conversation was going and failing. "So was I."

"That was lucky, wasn't it? If you hadn't come across me, we might never have gotten together."

"And you might have died," Draco pointed out.

Harry shrugged and waved away the comment. "I was coming here to think. Why were you headed here?"

"I was coming to jump out one of the windows." He caught Harry's look and laughed. "I was coming for some peace and quiet, and for a place to think, too. Though the windows did cross my mind," he said more seriously. "Life was really tough for me before you barged in. Finding you in that hallway might have saved my life as much as it did yours."

Harry leaned over and gave Draco a one-armed hug, then leaned back, not knowing what to stay to that. They stared out at the stars for awhile more before Harry spoke up again.

"What if I want you to stay in my life?" he asked quietly. Draco turned to look at him, then realized that Harry wasn't sitting next to him anymore. He had slipped silently off the sill and was now down on one knee in front of Draco, a little black box in his hands. "Draco Malfoy, what would you say if I told you that I wanted you to marry me, that I wanted to live with you always and laugh with you always and fight with you always?"

Draco covered his face and started laughing. Taken aback, Harry watched him, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and his stomach twisting in fear. It wasn't until Draco moved his hands that he could see he was crying, too.

"Draco?"

"Damn your Gryffindor courage," Draco finally muttered. He dug something out of his pocket and slid out of the window to kneel in front of Harry. "I've had this ever since you were laying unconscious in that infirmary bed, and I still haven't found the guts to ask you." He opened a small black box of his own. "Fine then, Harry Potter. If you agree to marry me, then I'll agree to marry you."

Shocked, Harry hugged Draco, causing them both to fall over, since they had both been precariously balanced on one knee. He found that he was laughing and crying as well. Draco firmly took his hand and slid his ring onto Harry's finger. Harry did the same to Draco before getting out his wand and muttering _Lumos_ so he could see more clearly. Settled perfectly on his ring finger was a gold band with tiny emerald stones spelling out the words _Through the darkness and the light, true love holds strong_.

"Oh, Draco," he whispered, awed by the gentle, sweet message. "It's beautiful."

Draco was busy studying his own ring. His was platinum, with letters in dark blue that read the simple, but true, words _Love Everlasting_ on the underside. He pulled Harry towards him and kissed him hard.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he cradled Harry's cheek in his hand.

"I love you, too," Harry told him, before burying his face in Draco's shoulder. It was so wonderful to know that he actually had a future now, to be able to live as he wished with whom he wished. It was so wonderful to give someone all of his love, and have it returned, full-force.

Life in general was just wonderful.

And, he realized, as he pulled back to smile his fiancée, it was only going to get better.

_Fin_

**A/N: Ack! It's over! I'm so sad! I'd like to thank:**

Dark Angel's Blue Fire

seraphim9

lucycat

weird chick

Katsy15

Skattebasse

Draeconin

-little oro-

blusorami

Crystal Malfoy

merciful-malice

TheBestOfBothWorlds

Bleudiablo

TammyLynnSlark

Dark Sorceress

Peligro

Fear of Apathy

Peaceful Angel

i-enjoy-toast

HPalto87

Allison

Juiceboxxx

pinkMINE

mou

bfaur1979

ME

sbkar

Obsession920

seeingblack 08

Heather

juniper

artemisjanna

Tess

Kirjava Twilight

fourth-face-of-the-goddess

I-Heart-Riku-And-Sora-Forever

RainPure

redfox13

lovly elley

DMHPluv

xNoirex

TheSlytherinMuggle

**for reviewing my story thus far and giving me encouragement as well as for pointing out the things I missed so I could fix them. You guys pushed me past 100 reviews! That's a record for me!**

**I have another Harry/Draco in the wings, but this one I'm going to write at least a few chapters before starting to post it. I love you all!**

**daemonfamiliar **


End file.
